


Tipping the scales

by apathyinreverie



Series: Tipping the scales [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alec 'I-don't-get-it' Lightwood, Alec against the Clave, Alec has wings, Alec is the BEST big brother, Alec puts Magnus first, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Shadowhunters are known, Angst, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Magnus Bane, Canon Compliant, Confident Alec Lightwood, Developing Relationship, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Edom (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Falling In Love, Fluff, Gen, Guilty Alec, Humor, Hurt Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magnus Bane Flirts, Magnus Bane in Edom, Magnus is charmed, Malec with kids, Married Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Powerful Magnus Bane, Pre-Canon, Professor Magnus Bane, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Magnus Bane, Ragnor Fell Lives, Salt, Teaching Assistant Alec, What-If, Wings, Worldbuilding, not-so-evil Asmodeus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 115,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathyinreverie/pseuds/apathyinreverie
Summary: A collection of random Malec snippets. (Will mostly be fluff, definitely some worldbuilding, and as always a whole lot of 'but what if...?' canon twists.)
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Tipping the scales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652476
Comments: 2329
Kudos: 1434





	1. Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec was twelve when Valentine's Circle overran Alicante.
> 
> (Kind of a Shadowhunter dystopia, which to everyone’s surprise ends up being more of a utopia instead, not only for everyone else but, weirdly enough, also for most Shadowhunters.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely **AnaBookWorm** :)

Alec was twelve when Valentine's Circle overran Alicante, forcing every Shadowhunter loyal to the Clave to flee Idris, to abandon their Institutes all over the world, and to seek refuge in the mundane world amongst their Downworld brethren instead.

Even now, more than ten years later, no one is entirely sure how the wards were brought down, how exactly Valentine and his loyal Circle and those weird forsaken creatures - that barely make a difference between friend and foe - got into Alicante without anyone noticing.

Although, everyone kind of assumes it likely had something to do with the truly staggering number of spies and moles and traitors who had apparently been hiding themselves within Alicante and who promptly crawled out of the woodwork to stab former comrades in the back as they joined Valentine’s ranks during the invasion.

It had been chaos, making it all the easier for Valentine to take over Alicante, forcing everyone else to flee the city originally given to them by the angel Raziel himself.

That thought alone still stings sometimes.

+++

The attack had come in the middle of the night.

No one had expected it. No one had even _considered_ that Valentine might so much as attempt a takeover, much less that he could possibly ever _succeed_.

They were all taken by surprise, utterly unprepared for the pure viciousness of the attack, forcing them to flee and scatter all over the world.

Insidiously, the first part of the invasion had been done in the dead of night, pure, cowardly stealth, as the Circle crept through the city, specifically targeting the more well-known, more powerful families in Alicante. And by the time the first alarms actually sounded around Idris, a devastating number of loyal Shadowhunters had already been killed, most of them in their own beds, never even having seen an attack within their own walls coming.

The Silent City and Adamant Citadel immediately went on lockdown, closing their walls to protect their secrets and priceless artifacts from those who might seek to take what wasn't rightfully theirs.

Of course, Alec only heard about all of that afterwards, seeing as his family had been living at the New York Institute back then.

Still, he remembers that night with perfect clarity, remembers the yelling and the confusion and the obvious fear from his parents and holding on to his siblings while not entirely understanding what was going on.

There are especially two images from that night that Alec thinks he will never be able to forget.

One is of his mother, standing in the doorway to his bedroom, backlit by the red flashes of the Institute’s alarms from the corridor behind her, face pale, one hand on her pregnant stomach, the other holding on to a sleepy Izzy's hand, as she urged Alec and Jace to get their coats and shoes and wait for her in the entrance hall.

The other image is of his father.

Not the one of him yelling instructions in the Ops center, alerts from other Institutes requesting backup against invaders flashing on the screens, as he assigned groups of Shadowhunters to follow him to Idris to help defend Alicante, and others to stay behind and defend their own Institute if need be.

In the end, they hadn't succeeded in either.

Because the other image seared into Alec's brain is of the next time he had seen his father later that same night, only eleven of the forty-three Shadowhunters he had led to Idris still with him, plus those who had stayed behind to defend the Institute, all of them bleeding, roughed up, and with a desperate sort of helpless anger around them that Alec hasn't been able to forget until this day.

And he remembers holding on to Izzy and Jace on either side of him as the adults talked urgently between themselves, voices grim, expressions angry, eyes desperate, remembers his siblings leaning into his sides, clearly exhausted but so very wide awake with the obvious fear they were picking up from the adults.

He knows his siblings didn't quite understand what was happening at the time, had been more than a little confused at finding themselves standing in a random back alley still in their pajamas with only their coats on top.

He knows that even now they can't remember everything that actually happened that night.

But it had been different for Alec. He had been just old enough, had already been training as a Shadowhunter for long enough, had been receiving schooling as the Lightwood heir for even longer, had spent enough time studying Clave-Downworld politics, knew enough of their history on both ends of the spectrum, to realize _even then_ why his mother had looked so absolutely terrified when the alarms had sounded in the middle of the night. The alarms that signified the Institute's wards were down.

Of course, as much as he had gotten the gist of what was going on back then, these days Alec knows even more about the reasons why his parents had been honestly terrified, not only for themselves but also for their children. Knows that with his parents having once been part of the Circle and thus having personally betrayed Valentine when they left, they would never have received any sort of mercy from the Circle if any of their family had ever been caught.

And without a safe place to retreat to, his parents simply hadn't stood a chance of escaping Valentine, not with his mother heavily pregnant and with three children in tow, two of them their own and one of them adopted barely a couple of months ago, none of them fully able to defend themselves, not against Circle members and not against any Downworlders who might decide to take this chance to get their revenge against the Clave.

So, Alec also knows why, as much as his mother’s general disdain for Downworlders hasn’t really changed, to this day there is a certain gratitude in her voice when she speaks of those first couple of weeks after they had been forced to leave the Institute behind.

Because, that night, in their absolute helplessness and with nowhere to turn to, his parents had done the only thing they could think of.

They called the resident High Warlock for help.

Which turned out to be the best damn decision they could possibly have made.

Because as soon as he heard of Idris’ fall, Magnus Bane had not only sent word to every other High Warlock around the globe, but he had also immediately put the entire city of New York on lockdown, had called in the warlocks under his jurisdiction, combining magic to put up city-wide defenses, wards that somehow spanned most of New York's metropolitan area and locked out any nephilim who weren't already within city limits.

And then, in contrast to most other places, Magnus Bane had decided to extend the protection of his wards to _everyone_ who had a reason to hide from Valentine and his Circle, Downworlders and Shadowhunters alike.

New York's Shadowhunters might not have realized it right away, but as more and more cities fell, more and more Institutes being taken over by the Circle, they certainly learned to appreciate the fact that their city was apparently home to one of the most powerful warlocks alive.

Who apparently also had a rather eccentric collection of ridiculously powerful warlock friends, who - when Magnus Bane asked them for help with fortifying his city - promptly answered his call. And after feeding their magic into the city wards, they also seemed to collectively decide they might as well stay now that they were here, cheerfully taking up residence in New York City and - as Magnus Bane was apparently happy with keeping just Brooklyn for himself - proceeded to divide up the other boroughs amongst themselves.

Somehow, their city ended up being home to some of the most powerful warlocks around, making for quite the formidable line of defense.

These days, Magnus Bane is rarely seen going anywhere without being accompanied by at least one other Downworlder, more often than not Catarina Loss or Ragnor Fell, frequently even flanked by both.

It might not be quite official, but everyone in New York's Shadowworld knows that their city has a sort of Warlock Triumvirate instead of just a single High Warlock as used to be the norm.

Then again, considering the sheer number of Downworlders who started flocking to their city - not only in the weeks immediately after Alicante's fall but also continuously ever since - having more than just a single warlock in charge might admittedly be a bit of a necessity.

And it's not only Downworlders.

Because New York turned out to be one of the very few cities where - as soon as the Clave fell and lost its hold on the Shadowworld - Downworlders _didn't_ collectively turn on Shadowhunters.

If for no other reason than because their High Warlock made it so.

So, Alec knows his family was lucky, knows that Shadowhunters from other Institutes weren’t nearly as fortunate, being driven out of their cities the moment Idris fell and the Clave's retaliation to any action taken against Shadowhunters stopped being a threat.

Nowadays, Alec even gets _why_, can retrospectively understand why after centuries of having to deal with Clave laws - being treated as second class citizens at best and volatile threats at worst - the Downworld as a whole simply wasn't willing to extend their own protections to Shadowhunters, not when collectively kicking out all nephilim was so much easier and safer for everyone _else_.

In those early days, when Shadowhunters suddenly found themselves without any sort of safe haven to retreat to, without allies or resources to fall back on, they had made rather easy pickings for Valentine.

And, of course, New York isn’t the only city that decided to give refuge to Shadowhunters, and it most certainly isn’t the only city that held out against Valentine, not at all.

But New York with its city-wide protections, the security of warlock wards against anyone with angel blood who hasn't been specifically keyed into them, is something else entirely. Their only real security gap being that there is really no way of knowing how many of Valentine's people might have been within city limits when the wards originally went up.

Still, it is much safer than almost anywhere else in the world. There really aren't many cities that can boast something even close to their city's protections.

Sure, it's not like just stepping foot outside the wards will immediately get you killed, but the danger of a run-in is definitely there, and Downworlders and Shadowhunters alike quickly learned that the Circle is most certainly looking for any 'dissenters' and 'abominations' to eliminate, forever continuing their zealous 'cleansing' of the population.

Of course, these days - more than ten years after Alicante's fall - a sort of equilibrium has long since established itself, with quite a number of strongholds all around the globe where Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike congregate under the protection of their resident warlocks' wards, while the fight for the upper hand between the various factions - of Shadowhunters, Downworlders, and Valentine’s Circle - continues.

Thankfully, New York had been the first to put up wards around the wider metropolitan area, had done so while Valentine had still been busy conquering Idris, so at least the number of possible security threats is rather limited. Which seems to be enough of a reassurance for their High Warlock. Because the only way to reliably get rid of any Circle members that might still have access to the city, would be by kicking out _all_ Shadowhunters. And Alec - and everyone he knows - is incredibly grateful that Magnus Bane seems unwilling to do just that.

So, he knows he and his family were lucky, simply because they were in New York at the time of the invasion.

And once the initial panic on all sides finally settled, ‘equal treatment for all’ had actually turned out to be a surprisingly popular sentiment, as signified by how even now it isn't only Shadowhunters who continue flocking to New York, seeking refuge, but just as many Downworlders who are apparently more than willing to live alongside nephilim, just as long as everyone is treated fairly.

Who would have thought.

The only other cities Alec knows of that can rival New York in sheer numbers of Shadowhunters and Downworlders combined, are Osaka, Cologne, and Johannesburg, an admittedly rather odd collection of cities.

Still, as a Shadowhunter, New York is definitely one of the better places to end up in.

Not only do they have a sort of cabinet of the city's various leaders - werewolf alphas, vampire clan leaders, faerie delegates, Shadowhunter representatives, and usually the High Warlock himself - where everyone gets to have a voice.

But also because Alec isn't aware of a single other city where Shadowhunters received actual _help_ with settling into the mundane world, even if it was just with something as simple as forging identification or documents about schooling and degrees and supposed previous jobs.

Those initial couple of months where they suddenly realized that life was quite a bit harder without the Clave's financial reserves backing them, suddenly having to find ways to support themselves, to make enough money to feed themselves and their families.

Sure, as a twelve year old that sort of problem hadn't really been something Alec thought about, but he still remembers the stack of official-looking documents one Magnus Bane had handed his parents without much of a comment at some point. None of them might have realized it at the time, but after a couple of years outside their Clave-protected bubble, they all know just how invaluable those few pieces of paper actually are when trying to make a living in the mundane world.

As a kid, Alec's image of the future most certainly hadn't ever included his parents having actual _day jobs_, with his mother working at a book store and his father working at a normal office, and then taking care of assigning missions and patrols to the Shadowhunters of their city once they got home.

Same as he had never thought he and his siblings would be sent to attend mundane high school and then actually go to university, so as to give them better odds at finding a higher paying job in the mundane world later in life, even as they completed their Shadowhunter training on the side.

Alec never imagined being as much a part of the mundane world as he is part of the Shadowworld.

And it took New York's Shadowhunters about a year to strike a deal with the other city leaders, a deal that still lets them hunt demons freely, even if they are required to stay entirely clear of any Downworld business.

Alec is honestly glad that - Alicante having fallen or not - they still get to go after the demons forever popping up all around the city, to fulfill their angel-given duty the way it was originally intended, before the Clave ever decided that their angel blood somehow made them _more_ and that concurrently demon blood must make Downworlders _less_.

Alec certainly isn't alone in thinking that the Clave might have been overreaching just a little with that.

And word spread.

Word of a city mostly safe from Valentine, where Shadowhunters and Downworlders were about as equal as they could be. A city kept protected from the Circle under warlock wards, kept safe from demons by Shadowhunters, and kept at peace under balanced Shadowworld law.

Word of a utopia, or at least as close to it as you could ever hope to find.

And even now, more than ten years after Idris' fall, it seems like almost every week another Shadowhunter or Downworlder - sometimes entire families or even larger groups from other cities - knock on the wards, asking for entry.

Alec has heard of the rather harrowing questioning everyone has to go through in order to gain access to the city, but most of them don't really complain about it.

Because why complain when it is that same protocol that has so far kept their city safe from Valentine's people gaining access as well.

New York's Shadowworld has grown exponentially in the past decades and just the number of Shadowhunters who now live in their city is almost staggering compared to the number that used to be assigned to their Institute. And all of them have certainly gained a new appreciation for Downworlders.

And one Downworlder in particular.

High Warlock Bane.

Even those Shadowhunters amongst them who might not like him, even those who might resent the fact that they are now more or less living under warlock rule, are fully aware that it is that same warlock who is also keeping them safe, the reason why they were initially allowed to stay in the city at all, and also one of the main reasons why they have been treated fairly ever since.

So, no one in their entire city would ever refute that - as much as he seems happy to take everyone's opinions into account - High Warlock Bane is the one person in their entire city who could easily topple the balance. If only because, as much as other warlocks still feed their magic into New York's defenses, Magnus Bane is still the one who holds most of the city-wide wards. By himself.

Everyone in New York's Shadowworld is fully aware that it is the High Warlock who their little utopia depends on, that he is unquestionably the most important, the most sought after, the most powerful person in their entire city.

So - _of all people_ \- of course, _that_ is also the person Alec has been harboring a rather enormous crush on ever since he was fifteen and first met the warlock in all his sparklingly bright glory face to face.

Because, _of course_, Alec couldn't have picked an at least _slightly_ more attainable person to fall for.

He knows full well that there is just no way that he could ever actually have a chance with the man, is actually fairly certain that Magnus Bane is _at most_ vaguely aware of the fact that Alec even exists.

So, he has long since resigned himself to the fact that he'll live out his days as a virgin, gazing wonderingly, longingly - and rather pathetically - from afar at the only person he has ever felt attracted to at all, seeing as he just had to fall for the most unattainable person in their entire city.

Probably on the planet.

Possibly even including any other realms associated with theirs.

You know, just to further reduce Alec's odds of ever so much as getting to actually talk to the man.

+++

And then comes the day Alec accidentally stumbles across a rather insidious plot to get rid of said High Warlock from the inside.

Something Alec takes definite exception to.

Of course, he is only so very appalled at the idea that someone might try to kill Magnus Bane because of the implications for their city's security, only because there seems to be a traitor on the inside.

It has nothing at all to do with that enormous crush Alec _isn't_ harboring. Really.

Well, anyway.

Now, Alec just has to find a way to warn the most sought-after man in their city of said murder plot, has to somehow get word of the traitor amongst his most trusted to the High Warlock, while also bypassing all those people he seems to be constantly surrounded by, seeing as Alec really has no way of knowing which one of them might be working with the would-be assassinators. 

...

_Well, fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this plot bunny of a supposed-to-be-dystopian world that ends up being more of a utopia for everyone, where Shadowhunters are fully integrated into the mundane world instead of living in their lofty, Clave-run castles, has been plaguing me for a while now. Mostly because of the flipped Malec dynamics :3
> 
> And I have no idea whether I'll continue this at any point (since I'm really hoping to avoid adding even more WIPs to my already stupid number of unfinished malec stories), but considering how my writing doesn't really tend to follow my plans at all, who knows XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	2. Last laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humorous post-canon snippet about Asmodeus coming back from portal limbo, finding his own dimension gone, and promptly deciding he might as well move in with his son and his newly minted husband for a while. Not that he actually consults either of them.

It is a plain fact that destroying a Greater Demon is nigh impossible.

You can rip them apart, can kill them, even utterly crush them, but they are woven so deeply into the very fabric of this world that truly _ending_ one, is quite a bit more difficult than just dealing a killing blow.

They always recover, recollect themselves, gather power anew, reform from the powers that created them in the first place.

They always return.

Sometimes it may take them a while to do so, decades, or centuries, or even _millennia_ in some cases.

But sometimes it's truly just a matter of waking up and _deciding_ to.

+++

What Magnus said to his father about anyone who enters a portal unconscious getting stuck in limbo forever may be true enough for most people.

Then again, Asmodeus may be many things but 'most people' he certainly is not.

Maybe his son should really have kept that in mind.

Asmodeus himself is in no way surprised when he finds himself waking not too long after being thrown into the portal by his son.

First, he decides to take a bit of an aimless wander around this non-dimension of places-in-between – thinking it might honestly be best to give his son a bit of time to cool off before Asmodeus seeks him out once more – but finally he decides that 'limbo', as Magnus called it, is far too boring for him to want to stick around here for any amount of time.

So, he doesn't.

A wave of his hand, a rip in the fabric of reality, and he easily steps back into the world.

Admittedly, he _is_ somewhat surprised to then realize that his own dimension is apparently gone. Destroyed by his own son and that nephilim lover - now apparently turned husband - of his. Destroyed _after_ his son had taken Asmodeus’ throne as Edom’s ruler.

Which, is admittedly rather unexpected.

He has to hand it to his son. It’s been _centuries_ since Asmodeus was honestly surprised by something, has come across something he hadn’t already planned for. But in all his plans and machinations and manipulations to get Magnus to join him in Edom, even Asmodeus hadn’t anticipated this particular outcome.

An approving smirk curls his lips.

His son has certainly gotten his revenge for Asmodeus’ meddling.

Then again, it’s not like Edom having been destroyed is going to be much of a problem for Asmodeus. He can always just pick another dimension of hell to conquer and then rule over.

How about Duduael?

He seems to recall hearing something about Azazel having gone topside a while back and then daring to put his hands on Magnus?

Demons are possessive by nature, don’t like other demons touching what they consider theirs. So, messing with someone of Asmodeus’ bloodline without consulting him about it first is truly the height of stupidity.

Even Lilith knew better than that.

So, really, Azazel should have known better, should have remembered that Asmodeus has only ever been second in power to Lucifer himself. And he thinks, taking over his brother's dimension certainly seems like a fitting retaliation for such an infraction.

Although...

A smirk creeps over his face.

Why not make things a little more entertaining? With Edom gone and Asmodeus supposedly having nowhere to go, he might as well make use of that excuse and go visit some family while he is here on earth.

His son and his newly minted husband are surely going to be _delighted_ to have Asmodeus staying with them for a while.

It seems only fair they’d play host to him, after the two of them decided to destroy Asmodeus’ realm.

His smirk widens.

It will certainly teach them to never touch a realm under his rule again. If only to avoid Asmodeus moving in with them once more.

And it’s not like he is in any sort of hurry. He can always wait a while until he conquers another dimension of hell. He has nothing if not time.

+++

When Alec comes home after a long day of work to find his supposed-to-be-vanquished-forever father-in-law in their living room, cheerfully lounging on the couch, drink in hand, looking perfectly at home, while Magnus sits in an armchair across from him with an air of resigned exasperation around him, Alec is anything but amused.

+++

"Magnus, he can't stay here!" Alec says emphatically. "Remember what he did last time we saw him?!"

They are in Magnus’ study, far enough away to talk but still close enough to keep an eye on the Greater Demon lounging about in their living room.

"I _know_, darling," Magnus replies. But it sounds almost plaintive and Alec immediately feels bad for acting like Magnus is in any way to blame for this situation they have suddenly found themselves in. Magnus is really the last person who should be receiving any blame in this. "It's just... What am I supposed to do? Do you really want me to send him away? Then we won't have any way of knowing where he is at much less what he might be doing?"

Okay, Alec can admit that's actually a good point.

Letting a Greater Demon – who has not only managed to find a way out of portal-limbo but, upon realizing that his own dimension is now gone, apparently also decided to _move in with them_ – roam about freely on earth is a recipe for absolute disaster. And - depending on what Asmodeus decides to get up to – will likely even end with the two of them having to hunt the demon down anyway.

Not to even mention that he can also hear the hesitation in Magnus' voice. Hesitation because clearly – despite everything his father has done to him – Alec’s soft-hearted husband cannot even imagine throwing family out on the street.

Even if it is Asmodeus they are talking about, the demon who almost succeeded in driving Magnus and Alec apart entirely.

Then again, considering what Alec's own family has put Magnus through ever since they crashed into his life and after Magnus has given all of them – _including_ Alec – so many second chances, he knows it's rather hypocritical of him to be arguing against that particular character trait of his husband's now.

But still, a Greater Demon! In their home!

Still, Alec already knows he won't protest any further. Honestly, doesn't really have a single argument to really protest with.

He huffs. "How did he even get here? This is _Alicante_. He isn't even supposed to be able to get into the country much less the city!"

"_He_ is sitting right here and can hear every word you are saying," comes the amused comment from their living room.

Alec curls his lips even as he rolls his eyes, before glancing back at Magnus.

His husband who is looking up at him, eyes apologetic but clearly unable to think of an alternative either. “Just for a while. Just until we can figure out somewhere else for him to go,” Magnus says.

It ends in an upwards lilt. Like a question. Like Magnus is more worried about how _Alec_ might feel about having Asmodeus around than about his own discomfort, never mind the fact that it wasn’t Alec but rather Magnus who had to bear the brunt of his father’s manipulations, that it was Magnus who got hurt.

Because, of course, Magnus’ first thought is for Alec and not himself.

When has it ever not been?

The thought makes Alec smile slightly, helplessly.

Magnus with his too soft heart and far too much kindness, making him incapable of holding any sort of grudge against anyone, no matter what they might have done.

His husband’s too-big and far-too-forgiving heart is one of the things Alec loves most about him. Even if it apparently means he has to put up with his demon father-in-law in his own home for a while.

“Okay,” he finally says quietly, even as he takes a small step closer.

Watches an answering smile curve Magnus’ lips, eyes warm and filled with that loving, reverent adoration that still makes Alec’s breath catch every time he sees it. 

Alec takes another step closer, brings up a hand to curl around the back of his neck, feels Magnus’ hands coming to settle on his waist as he tilts his head to -

“_He_ could also really use another drink,” Asmodeus’ voice, full of amused condescension, interrupts them rather jarringly

Alec blinks.

And Magnus just sighs, even as he twirls his fingers absently to refill his father’s glass even from a distance.

“Thank you, my dear son,” Asmodeus comments brightly from the living room. “Now, why don’t you leave your husband to do whatever it is nephilim do in their free time and instead come here to tell me what has happened since we saw each other last and you tried to banish me to eternal limbo. I mean, aside from you destroying my realm, of course.”

A pause.

And then, Magnus sighs in exasperated resignation as he lets his head fall to briefly rest his forehead against Alec’s shoulder.

But – with the mood between them so very effectively ruined – Magnus finally steps away slightly and, after throwing him another apologetic glance, follows his father’s call to the living room.

And Alec just feels torn between throwing up his hands in frustration and throwing something _at_ his father-in-law.

He certainly hopes that this interrupting-at-the-most-inopportune-moments isn’t going to be any sort of pattern. Not if Asmodeus is planning to stay with them for _any_ amount of time.

Because if that turns out to be the case, Alec definitely isn’t above finding a way to get rid of his father-in-law for good. It’s not like it would even be the first time he vanquished a Greater Demon in retaliation for messing with Magnus.

He steps out of the study to watch Magnus once more take his seat in the armchair across from his father. And he can’t help but frown darkly, suspiciously, at the rather superior, victorious smirk Asmodeus promptly sends him over Magnus’ shoulder.

Hm.

Maybe Alec should just start looking into ways for banishing a Greater Demon to a dimension that no longer exists right away.

You know, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the idea of Asmodeus coming back from portal limbo and then deciding to just stick around on earth for a bit, if only to mess with his son-in-law (by simply always being around at the loft and demanding his son's attention and driving Alec up the wall), well, it's been clamoring for my attention for a while now, so here you go :)
> 
> Although, I'm fairly certain that there won't be any sort of continuation to this because no matter what my mind comes up with, it unavoidably devolves into pure crack pretty much right away XD
> 
> Still, would love to know what you think :D


	3. Wishful thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes them years – more than a decade even – to notice that Alec simply stopped aging at some point. (Immortal Alec post-canon snippet)

It takes them years – more than a decade even – to notice that Alexander simply stopped aging at some point.

Sure, in hindsight, the signs are obvious. But in a world full of creatures who never age or die, another forever-young face simply doesn’t stand out.

Not until they _know_ to look for it.

And it’s actually Alexander himself who notices before anyone else does.

+++

Magnus glances up from where he is leaning over the desk in his study, having been focused on the merrily bubbling potion he is currently brewing for a client.

An immediate smile stretches over his face at the sounds he can hear coming from the entrance hall to the loft. The jingling of keys, the door opening and closing, some shuffling.

The familiar sounds of Alexander coming home from work. And he knows that within a minute or two – just as soon as he has rid himself of his briefcase and jacket – Alexander will come looking for him, will appear in the doorway to his study, make his way over, and give him a kiss hello.

After more than a decade of being married, it’s familiar, almost routine at this point.

And Magnus absolutely adores it.

The past couple of years have been wonderful, everything just seeming to fall into place, as if to make up for the rather hectic, overly dramatic first couple of months after they had first met.

Clary and Valentine and Sebastian and Lilith had certainly made a mess of things. For everyone. But Magnus still maintains that he and Alexander somehow got stuck dealing with the worst of it, more often than not despite not actually being directly involved in whatever potentially world-ending catastrophe was currently being produced by the usual suspects.

Thankfully, those days are long gone, and even the worst troublemakers among their group have mellowed a little these days. Magnus certainly doesn't miss it.

Of course, he wouldn't change any of it for the world. Because in the end it had all been so very worth it. Worth it to get him where he is right now, married to the love of his life.

The smile on his face widens.

Things with Alexander and him have been great, perfect even. They've been married for fifteen years now and ever since they actually figured out how to do that whole healthy-communication thing, there haven't been any real hiccups between them anymore.

Sure, they fight from time to time, but the only real arguments they seem to get into these days, tend to be about either of their work or about one of them doing something stupidly self-sacrificial. Sometimes both.

Case in point, their argument just three days ago about Alexander working too much and Magnus telling him to slow down a little.

Magnus glances at the time.

Hm. Considering that Alexander is apparently already home from work, his husband actually seems to have taken that argument to heart. How nice.

It's not even fully dark out yet. So, if Magnus hurries with this potion they might even have a chance to actually go out tonight, spend some time together, just the two of them.

He smiles at the thought, even as he quickly focuses back on the bubbling concoction in front of him.

The potion was already in its final stages, so finishing it is done quickly. Although, when he finally corks the last vial, Magnus realizes that it must still have been at least fifteen minutes since Alexander got home.

But Magnus has yet to get his hello kiss from his husband.

He glances up with a slight frown.

Only to find Alexander actually standing in the doorway to his study, clearly having sought him out, but for some reason not having come over. Instead, just staring in his direction, frown on his face, and gaze focused somewhere into the middle distance.

Magnus smiles somewhat confusedly but as always he is just simply happy to see his husband. And he is far too used to Alexander coming home with something from work still on his mind to give his absentmindedness too much thought.

So, he puts down the vials in his hands, closes the book he had been getting the potion recipe from, and then over to Alexander, smiling in greeting.

“Hello, darling,” he says once he reaches him, leans in for a quick kiss. “How was your day?”

Alexander kisses him back absently, eyes focusing briefly on Magnus once he pulls away a little. And then, his gaze just drifts into the middle distance again, frown deepening, clearly caught up in his own thoughts.

Magnus is happy to just wait him out. Alexander might have grown in many ways over the years, but communication or articulating his feelings still certainly aren't his forte. Sometimes his husband just needs a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts.

Finally, Alexander opens his mouth, closes it again. Another pause. And then, he - rather randomly in Magnus' opinion - asserts, “I’m almost forty.”

Which, okay?

Magnus waits for him to continue. But when nothing else is forthcoming, he just grins easily, “Astute observation, love.”

Alexander blinks at him, finally focuses on him fully as he frowns, shakes his head. “No. I mean I’m almost _forty_. But I don’t look like it.”

Magnus' grin widens. “Oh, I _know_,” he lets something of a leer spread over his face as he gives his husband a slow once-over. “I mean, I always knew you Lightwoods had good genes but I had no idea you’d age _this_ well.”

“That’s my _point_,” Alexander almost sounds a little distressed now, and it has Magnus promptly sobering entirely, feeling a frown of his own crossing his face.

Still, he has no idea just what his husband might be talking about.

And clearly, Alexander can tell, as he takes a step closer to Magnus and demands, “Look at me. Honestly _look_ at me. And point out one thing that changed about me since we met. Just _one_.”

Magnus blinks, honestly taken aback.

But it’s such a strange request, and clearly there is something Alexander is rather rattled by, so he does as asked, looks at his husband of more than a decade and compares him to the man he met.

Looks for the laugh lines around his eyes he knows should be there or the furrows in his brow, the thinning or graying hair one might expect from a man approaching their forties. 

He frowns.

Looks closer.

Reaches up a hand to cup his face, palm brushing over the beard Alexander has taken to wearing these past couple of years, lets his fingertips tangle in his hair, as his eyes keep skipping over his husband’s features, honestly trying to make out anything that might show Alexander's age.

“I…” Magnus is baffled, eyes still intent on his husband's face.

There is nothing. No laugh lines around his eyes, no grey hairs, not a single damn wrinkle.

Sure, Alexander looks tired, but that has been the norm ever since he took on his current position. And, sure, the hair cut is a little different from a decade ago, and the scar running straight down his left temple wasn’t there back when they met, and Alexander certainly hadn't been wearing a beard back then. But the scar is from a fight with a demon just five years back, and the facial hair has little to do with actual age.

And aside from that, his husband looks exactly the same as he did fifteen years ago.

Magnus just stares. _How is this possible? _

_And how did I not notice?_

Alexander is watching him intently and can clearly tell when Magnus finally comes to the same conclusion he himself had apparently come to at some point during the day.

And once Magnus finally meets his gaze with the same sort of baffled confusion mirrored in his eyes, strangely enough, some of the tension around Alexander seems to almost release. As though sharing the epiphany of something being _off_, makes it somehow easier to bear.

Then, Alexander takes a step closer as he says lowly, urgently, “Jace's hair is starting to go gray at his temples, and I know Clary started dyeing hers, and Izzy doesn’t wear her tight dresses anymore because she says it just depresses her, and Luke stopped going on missions altogether because he says he simply can’t keep up with the younger Shadowhunters any longer.” A pause. “_My_ hair is the same, I have no wrinkles, and once I was done training that class of new graduates from the academy today, most of them couldn’t even walk without leaning on each other anymore.” Another pause. “I'm older than my siblings. And _I haven’t changed_.”

Magnus blinks. “I don’t… But _how_?” he asks, feeling so very taken off guard, eyes now honestly darting over Alexander's face, trying to find something - _anything_ \- that might show his age.

Because now that it has been pointed out to him, he can't _not_ notice that Alexander truly doesn't look like a man approaching his forties or like someone who has thrown his all at his ridiculously stressful job for the past fifteen years, something which in and of itself should be taking its toll as well.

“I don’t know,” Alexander sighs, finally slumping slightly now that he clearly has Magnus on the same page.

Magnus immediately steps up to his husband, reaches out to pull him into a firm embrace. And Alexander just gratefully leans into him, arms coming up to curl around his back, face tucking into his neck.

And, again, suddenly Magnus can’t _not_ notice how this feels exactly like it has for the past fifteen years, how aside from the _utter_ _familiarity_ nothing about this has changed, the way Alexander still holds himself the same, with the same sort of authority and uncompromising strength of youth, the way he is still able to forge his way through the mountains of work in front of him, no matter any obstacles in his way, despite supposedly not being a young man anymore.

It’s been fifteen years. And _his husband hasn’t aged._

And in a dark, secret corner of his mind - one Magnus usually keeps shoved down, hidden from everyone, even from himself - a thrill runs through him. A thrill of pure, unadulterated _hope_.

Immediately followed by guilt.

Because he knows he should in no way be celebrating this and, of course, he is worried just what might have caused this, knows they’ll need to figure out what is going on as soon as possible, need to know whether it's something nefarious, whether they might even possibly have to _undo_ it.

Still, he also can’t help but selfishly think that even if this – whatever it may be that has apparently kept his husband from aging these past years – turns out to be just temporary, Magnus will still be unspeakably grateful.

Because even if Alexander starts aging again _tomorrow_, right now his husband is still physically in his twenties.

Which means an additional fifteen years. An additional _fifteen years_ Magnus that might get to spend with the love of his life. When he had never expected to get more than sixty in total.

Magnus will take every additional day he can get. Every _second_, if it comes down to it.

And in that quiet, dark, desolate corner of his mind, the part of himself that he has hidden as deeply as he possibly can, the part of himself that cannot even _fathom_ existing beyond Alexander's death, sits up and takes notice, rejoices.

Because his husband has stopped aging. Frozen in time.

Just like Magnus.

And even as he tightens his arms around Alexander, even as he presses a kiss to his husband's temple, murmurs soft reassurances into his hair, that dark, secret, hidden - suddenly so helplessly, breathtakingly _hopeful_ \- part of himself simply can't help but wonder.

_What if?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Immortal Alec. For no other reason than because this is simply my canon, has been ever since I discovered Malec, and I simply refuse to accept any other outcome for the two of them. So, there :D
> 
> Would love to know what you think :)


	4. Antithesis (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all started with the purges. The Clave's darkest hour. (A strangely fluffy, dystopian AU)

Alec runs, holding on to the small form in his arms securely, one hand bracing the fragile neck and shoulders against his chest as he leaps over rooftops, down into dark alleys, across crowded streets.

He needs to get to somewhere safe, can't fail in this.

Another jump, a sudden twist around a corner, and then he is crouching down behind a dumpster in a dark alley, listening for any anyone who might possibly be following him.

He has to make sure, can't risk being followed. Especially not by other Shadowhunters.

But even with an activated soundless rune, there are still always signs that give a Shadowhunter's presence away if you know what to look for, like the sound of a pebble skittering down a roof tile, loosened by someone's step, or the displacement of air as someone jumps a larger distance.

But even as Alec strains his ears, he can hear nothing. No suspicious sounds, not even his instinct warning him of any immediate danger.

He feels just the slightest bit of his tension loosening as he breathes out quietly.

And then finally he takes a second to glance down at the small head with the mess of fuzzy curls now resting in the crook of his arm, tiny fingers curled into his shirt, large blue eyes staring up at him in pure delighted curiosity, clearly having rather enjoyed their mad dash across the city. But still, not so much as a peep out of the child.

The child who is the reason why Alec is currently hiding from his own people.

The child who is also a warlock - the blue skin and the little horns on his forehead easily give that fact away - still a toddler, probably not even a year old.

And Alec can barely believe it.

Somehow, he managed to come across a warlock child, while on a routine mission no less.

But excuse his disbelief. Because warlocks are a truly rare sight these days.

For good reason.

And it's the Clave who is solely to blame for the disappearance of an entire _race_ from their realm.

It all started with the purges. The Clave's darkest hour.

When, instead of passing judgment on Valentine and his Circle, the Clave decided to make a deal with the biggest criminal in their world. A deal that said, instead of hunting all Downworlders, Valentine would only target the direct descendents of demons, excluding anyone with so much as a trace of angelic blood.

Of course, that was before Alec's time. Before he was even born.

But he still calls bullshit on anyone claiming they hadn't known _exactly_ what would happen once that deal had been struck. Because as much as apparently no one had put it into words at the time, everyone must still have known exactly what those criteria meant, who exactly qualified for 'cleansing' in the eyes of the Clave.

The Clave had given the Circle _permission_ to hunt warlocks freely, even hunt them to extinction if they could manage.

And Valentine had easily agreed to the 'concession'. So, so easily.

With the backing of the Clave and all their resources at Valentine's disposal, the Circle's attack on the world's warlock population had been devastating.

So, Alec thinks they should all be thankful that Valentine had also miscalculated. As had the Clave.

Because in their self-importance, they had assumed that they already knew all there was to know about warlocks, including not only the identity of any truly powerful warlocks living on earth, but also the knowledge just _how_ powerful actually qualified as 'truly powerful' in a warlock's eyes.

But their worst mistake had been to assume that by attacking warlocks en masse any of the more powerful warlocks would be drawn out from behind their wards in order to protect their own and could then be overwhelmed by the Circle's various traps.

Well, they had been absolutely correct that the Circle's wide-spread attack on weaker warlocks - children and teenagers and any warlocks who weren't strong enough to defend themselves against an attack - brought the more powerful warlocks out of hiding.

Yes, they certainly managed to draw out the most powerful warlocks alright.

Which had, however, been a mistake. A fatal one.

Turns out, whatever the Clave had thought they knew about warlock powers, much less about the truly powerful ones amongst their race, was rather laughably inaccurate.

The tables turned.

What the Clave and Valentine had thought would be a quick cleansing of the population turned into something else entirely as soon as the warlocks not only realized what was going on but then also promptly decided to fight back.

With the same amount of mercy they themselves were being shown. Namely, none.

And as warlocks all over the world stood up, even more deigning to step out of the Labyrinth to join the fight, as their most powerful rose and gathered under the same flag, _to protect their own_, and proceeded to single-mindedly go after anyone with warlock blood on their blade.

It was a slaughter.

Hundreds of Shadowhunters died within less than those first twenty-four hours as the warlocks mercilessly tore apart everyone who dared to lift a seraph blade against them.

It was the exact mirror of what Valentine had been trying to accomplish.

Instead of 'cleansing' the world of those the Circle saw as lesser, the prey turned right around and became the predator instead.

But the warlocks didn't stop at that, didn't stop at killing anyone coming after them. For once, they were clearly unwilling to give the Clave any sort of leniency as they might have done under any other circumstances.

No, the warlocks widened their retaliation far beyond that.

Sure, they left any Shadowhunter who didn't lift a weapon against them alone, didn't actually hunt them as such.

Instead, they went directly for the heart of the Clave.

The warlocks set their eyes on Idris, tore through their wards of their angel-given city, and razed Alicante to the ground. Leaving behind a wasteland full of ruins and rubble to forever remind Shadowhunters of the truly foolish decision to try and subjugate an entire race.

When pitted against an entire army of warlocks fighting side-by-side - their magic joined, power and fury and magic, set to tear apart anyone standing in its way, malevolent, vicious, _merciless_ \- Shadowhunters quite simply hadn't stood a chance.

The warlocks won. The battle and the war.

Unequivocally.

But then, _afterwards_, instead of celebrating their victory, instead of asserting their power over the Shadowworld, instead of making someone _pay_, the warlocks decided on a far more effective punishment, something no one had even considered as a possible outcome.

They simply decided to let the Clave reap what they sowed.

Some sort of unseen signal went out and the warlocks pretty much disappeared over night, collectively disappearing into the Labyrinth, locking their doors, and barring entry to anyone not half and half human and demon.

But not before draining all magic from this earth.

No one knows exactly what spell the warlocks performed before they disappeared to their own dimension, but the effect was more than obvious. It had turned the world into a magical wasteland. Even including whatever remained of Idris.

Shadowhunters had always felt so certain in their superiority that they never bothered to consider what might happen if those of the Downworld who provided them with anything magical finally turned against them.

The world without warlock magic turned out to be a much harsher place than the Clave had ever even considered.

Gifts given, charms commissioned, potions brewed. They were suddenly mere trinkets. Useless. Supposedly permanent portals, wards already cast. Gone. Crumbling away as though they had never been there in the first place.

Even some of their angelic boons turned out to have just enough magic in them to be affected by the spell, suddenly losing their power. Like those protective wards around Idris that were supposed to keep demons out. Like the wards around the Institutes all over the world.

And even years later, the angels aren't kind enough to return those boons to them.

Of course, the Clave blames even that on the warlocks.

However, Alec thinks it's far more likely that the angels simply do not deem them worthy of those gifts any longer.

Especially as the Clave apparently learned nothing from their mistakes with the warlocks, not even trying to rein in Valentine who - in want of any warlocks to murder - promptly turned on any other Downworlders he could find in the aftermath.

Like that particular development had been in any way surprising.

Which simply led to the Faeries simply following the warlocks' example, locking themselves away in their own realm, barring entrance to everyone else.

Which just left vampires and werewolves. Who definitely got the worst of it, neither race having any magical means of protecting themselves and Alec knows that there are entire countries where both races have been hunted practically to extinction.

Not that the lack of wards and magical protections and portals only affects Downworlders.

It's a fact that demons are making use of more and more these days, coming to earth to wreak havoc.

Shadowhunters definitely didn’t know how good they had it before the warlocks went to ground.

A quiet snuffling sound brings his attention back to the child resting in the crook of his arm.

He glances down and finds large blue eyes staring up at him, full of innocence and bright curiosity. He can't help but reach out to softly run a finger down the child's soft cheek, checking whether the boy is still warm while he is at it, and one of his fingers is promptly caught in a tiny hand.

Alec doesn't even try to take it back, instead feeling his lips quirk up into a slight smile despite the rather stressful situation he is currently in.

It immediately gets him an answering, gummy smile, the sight of which quite literally tugging at his heart.

Thing is, just because the warlocks left this realm, doesn't mean that demons didn't continue to come here and impregnate mundanes.

So, warlocks still do appear from time to time.

But being a warlock in a world where even the bit of magic gathered in one as young as this boy is _invaluable_, is a fate no one should have to bear. Much less a child.

Alec might not have ever seen what happens to those few warlocks that the Clave has managed to get their hands on over the years.

But the fact that there are some Institutes _with_ wards, Institutes that have _somehow_ managed to find enough magic to feed into wards despite there supposedly being no source of magic aside from those few warlocks popping up around the globe from time to time...

Well, even the most favorable scenarios that Alec can possibly come up with for where that magic might be coming from and what might coincidentally be happening to any warlocks the Clave manages to get their hands on is rather bloodcurdling.

He's simply not going to risk anything of the sort happening to a child.

So, when he - during his supposedly normal mission - had spotted the blue-skinned toddler in some back alley, stuck in a cardboard box and shoved behind a stack of loading pallets, Alec had simply grabbed him and turned right around to sneak away, hurrying to put as much distance between him and the rest of his team as he could, before anyone had a chance to so much as spot just what Alec was hiding beneath his jacket.

He'll just have to come up with some sort of excuse for his unannounced absence from the mission later.

Actually...

He quickly fishes out his phone and shoots off a text to Izzy. _'Any more intel to add?'_

The text is so vague that it won't raise any alarms with anyone who might be checking their message logs later. But it not only gives him something to build his excuse on later, but also lets Izzy know that something is going on with Alec - seeing as there isn't any actual intel he is waiting for from her - and that he might be in need of an alibi later on.

He is sure that by the time he gets back to the Institute, not only will there be some bogus mission in the logs supposedly having been assigned to Alec at the last minute, but likely Jace will also be cheerfully proclaiming that he has been with Alec the entire time while he was gone.

It's not like the three of them are new to this sort of thing. And they have yet to get caught.

See, one thing everyone just _knows_ is that Alec is absolutely loyal to the Clave, that 'the law is the law' is his personal life motto, that he _lives_ by the Clave's laws.

Same as everyone knows that Izzy and Jace do not in fact entirely agree with the Clave on all - or even most - matters, but that it's Alec's influence on his siblings that has supposedly kept them in line for all these years.

Which means that anyone within their ranks who might have any sort of problem with the Clave feels safe to approach his siblings with their concerns, giving them a pretty good idea who amongst the other Shadowhunters thinks along similar lines as they do.

Sure, their open disagreement with the Clave's laws also means that Izzy and Jace are watched, monitored a little more closely than others are, nothing too obtrusive but just enough to make sure they haven't been getting any ideas. Just close enough to make it impossible for anyone to claim that they are actually the ones responsible whenever things 'coincidentally' do not go entirely to the Clave's plan.

Which actually happens surprisingly frequently.

Well, not _that_ surprisingly.

Because with everyone so very focused on keeping an eye on his siblings, they tend to entirely forget to watch Alec at all.

The Clave still hasn't cottoned on to the fact that the reason Jace and Izzy are supposedly still on the straight and narrow, isn't because Alec is keeping them there. But rather because Alec does all the rule-breaking for them.

And his siblings with their constant low-key surveillance then cheerfully provide him with alibis as needed.

It's a system they came up with a long time ago, when they were still in their teens and realized that none of them was willing to actually live by the Clave's directives but that being openly insubordinate tends to shorten one's lifespan significantly.

Alec will gladly hunt demons without second thought, even thinks that if the Clave were just a little less extreme, he'd probably be happy to bring in any Downworlders who are under suspicion of breaking the law.

But.

These days, being brought to the Clave for any sort of infraction is more or less a death sentence for any Downworlder, the trials tending to be little more than a farce and having very little to do with actual guilt or innocence.

So, yeah, Alec and his siblings tend to only hand over Downworlders to the Clave after having absolutely made sure that they are actually guilty of whatever they are being accused of. Not to even mention their various other ways of lending as much protection to the Downworlders in their city as they can while still staying in the shadows.

Which is actually what brings him here.

Because he needs somewhere safe for the little warlock resting in the crook of his arm and currently distracted by happily using Alec's finger as a teething ring.

And he _knows_ that there is a werewolf pack living around here.

Sure, these wolves have taken absolute care not to give the locations of their den away to the Institute and there are absolutely no sightings of werewolves in this area, no suspicious activity so much as hinting at any sort of Downworlder activity anywhere near this part of the city.

If anything, they've actually done too good a job at hiding themselves.

Because the rather glaringly werewolf activity-free area on the city map caught Alec's attention years ago already.

And he might have been fabricating a couple of reports claiming werewolf sightings in this area over the years, just to make sure that no one else might possibly pick up on this particular - and rather obvious - pattern.

Still, despite his knowledge of their presence, Alec has never had any reason to seek them out.

Until now.

He takes another suspicious glance around, makes sure that there isn’t any chance of anyone having followed him here.

And then, he ducks down the dark alley he knows hides the entrance to the werewolves' underground territory, seeing as Alec and Jace scoped this place out a couple of years back. A few quick steps, through a door of one of the supposedly abandoned houses here, into the room on the right, down into the basement, and finally through the trap door in the far left corner, down into the catacombs stretching out beneath New York.

It takes him barely ten seconds to get down here, and as soon as the trap door closes above his head, he holds perfectly still once more, listens. Makes sure there isn’t a single sound from the building above him that might indicate someone might have followed him here.

There is only silence.

Still, the tension in his shoulders doesn't release in the slightest.

Because he knows that he is now in werewolf territory. On his own. Without any sort of backup coming.

Which is quite honestly not a good place to be for any Shadowhunter these days.

He glances at the little boy in his arms, makes sure he is properly covered by Alec's jacket to protect the kid from the rather chilly air down here, before he finally sets off slowly down the dark corridor he has found himself in.

Everything in him is alert, honed towards anything that might prove to be a danger to this child.

So, he knows he isn't alone anymore by the time he reaches the first branch in the tunnel he is in, knows he has company long before the low growling from the dark corner on the right even starts.

Alec just tightens his hold on the child in his arms, even as he turns slightly to face the sound, senses honed towards the rest of his surroundings, more than certain that the growl is designed to distract him from whoever else might be slinking through the shadows.

He picks out a second presence to his right almost immediately, another to his left.

Three wolves.

Admittedly, not the best odds. Especially with one of Alec's hands occupied and thus making it impossible for him to effectively use his bow.

The growling is increasing in volume, growing more aggressive with every second that passes and without Alec giving any sign of intending to retreat back the way he came.

Instead, he lets his free hand drop to rest on the hilt of his seraph blade, lowers his center, ready to defend himself and the small boy who is now once more held securely against his chest. But he doesn't actually draw his blade yet, still determined not to be the first one to show any actual signs of aggression.

Because he needs these people.

Needs them to return the favor of Alec having helped keeping the location of their den a secret for so long. Needs them to provide a safe place for the little warlock.

He quite simply doesn't have any other options. Not when keeping the boy himself would end with the child somehow landing in the Clave's hands anyway. Even if he were to go on the run, Alec isn't conceited enough to think he'd actually succeed at evading the Clave and the Circle for any length of time.

As much as he and his siblings have been playing the subterfuge game for years now, there is a reason why they have yet to openly rebel. No matter how much support they have managed to gather from various Shadowhunters over the years, against the entirety of the Clave they quite simply do not stand a chance.

Not unless they get some sort of support from the outside.

So. Alec can't fail in this.

Because if he fails, then this little boy will likely not even make it to his next birthday.

Not when Alec's other choices - either leaving the child in the mundane world but his so obviously non-mundane appearance practically guaranteeing he'll be picked up by some other Shadowhunter rather soon, or going on the run with the boy himself and probably being tracked down within a couple of months at most - all lead to the little warlock at the Clave's mercy, more than likely to be drained dry of his magic or any of the more gruesome scenarios that Alec has come up with over the years for what the Clave might be doing with those warlocks they manage to get their hands on from time to time.

So, even as he watches the massive, hulking form of a fully transformed werewolf slink out of one of the tunnels branching off in front of him, teeth bared in a snarl, growl rumbling threateningly in his chest, Alec only keeps his hands on his blade in case he is truly forced to fight for his life.

He watches as another two wolves follow the first, absently notes a couple more presences still hiding in the shadows behind them.

Yeah, even Alec won't be able to take all of them on at once.

If the wolves truly attack, then Alec's only chance of getting away with his life would be to sprint with full, rune-enhanced speed right back where he came from, out of the catacombs, into the city, back into Clave domain. Where the wolves won't dare to follow him, most likely for fear of an ambush at their front door. Which would, however, leave Alec without a solution to his problem of what to do with the child in his arms.

So.

Something has got to give. _Before_ anyone attacks.

Alec's eyes narrow as he focuses on the wolves in front of him, easily picking out who between them is actually in charge.

He regards the obvious leader, steadily meeting the alpha's eyes.

Before Alec finally - and despite his instincts screaming at him - takes his hand off his seraph blade, and instead slowly reaches up to pull the fabric of his jacket aside, just enough to reveal the face of the blue-skinned toddler burbling happily at their surroundings, blue eyes large and curious as they take in the wolves across from them.

Everything stills.

Another couple of seconds before Alec carefully lets his hand drop to his side once more, loosely held over the hilt of his blade in case this still goes sideways, even as he waits for a reaction.

At this point, all he can do is hope that he hasn't made a fatal mistake by coming here, hope that these wolves will agree to take the boy in, agree to give the child a fair chance at survival in this less-than-optimal world they are all living in.

Or that they'll at the very least tell Alec where to go or who _else_ to approach in his quest to give this little warlock a place to stay, a place to be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this time an actual dystopia. Kind of the mirror what-if of the first chapter as far as alliances within the Shadowworld go. And Malec with kids is a menace that manages to inject fluff even into the harshest of situations XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	5. Fairy tale conundrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone at Idris University can agree that only the truly valiant at heart would dare try and get close to either Professor Bane or Teaching Assistant Lightwood. They may claim that they aren't actually a couple but, then again, rumors say that they do live in the same building, door to door, and tend to spend most – if not all – of their free time together… 
> 
> (A fluffy feel-good fic about two pining, possessive idiots jealously protecting what isn’t actually theirs. Yet.)

Alec not-so-patiently taps his foot, eyeing the people in front of him as the line moves forward incrementally, ever so slowly getting him closer to the counter of the little coffee shop he is currently in.

He barely keeps from rolling his eyes as yet another person dithers over whether to add whipped cream to her coffee concoction or not. Seriously, how can anyone put that much _thought _into something as simple as choosing their coffee order?

Alec also does his best to ignore the giggling group of what are likely first-semester students - five girls who keep throwing not-at-all surreptitious glances at Alec over their shoulders - in front of him. Maybe if he ignores them, they won't try to actually talk to him. Well, one can hope.

The little coffee shop is a students’ favorite and also conveniently set between the main building of Alec’s own department and that of the history department.

'Conveniently' because he tends to cross between the two buildings at least once a day, despite not actually having a single course that has anything whatsoever to do with history this semester.

But, well, the history building is where _Magnus_ is at. Which - as pathetic as it honestly may be - is really enough reason for Alec to show up rather frequently as well.

And it's not like he is unwelcome there. Quite the opposite really. Magnus' smile every time he sees Alec is the thing he tends to look forward to the most throughout the day. Even if it is only under the guise of bringing coffee and visiting a friend.

Alec met Magnus barely two days after moving, coming across each other in the stairwell of the building they both apparently live in.

And as much as they don't really seem to have anything in common outwardly - Alec being his taciturn, standoffish self and Magnus being so bright he practically illuminates every room he steps into - they still hit it off right away, even before they realized that Magnus actually teaches at Idris University where Alec coincidentally decided to do his graduate studies.

So, when they realized they’d both be working at the University, Magnus had invited him out for drinks to show him the neighborhood and, well, they've been friends ever since.

In the privacy of his own mind, Alec sighs a little forlornly to himself at that thought.

Because, _friends_. 

He's been harboring a crush on Magnus pretty much since that first night they met, had been immediately drawn in, utterly captivated within the first hour as they talked. And by now, he is so far past the point of no return, so far past just crushing on the other man, has somehow managed to completely _fall_ for Magnus. Someone who doesn’t even seem to register Alec as an option at all.

Alec would honestly give just about anything for a chance to actually take them off the path of friendship and steer them more towards a romantic relationship.

Alas, in the end, if friendship with Magnus is all he can have then Alec is absolutely willing to stick with that.

_Some_ Magnus in his life is infinitely better than risking having _no_ Magnus in his life by asking him out, just because Alec still hasn't figured out how to get over his rather insane crush on the _ridiculously_ attractive history professor with the warm laugh and gentle eyes and genuine kindness in every single thing he does. Whose mere _smile_ is enough to literally brighten Alec’s day, as absolutely stupid as that sounds.

Good lord, Alec is so _gone_ on the man.

But just because Alec wants to have even more, wants to have the other man all to himself, wants to be able to call Magnus _his_, there is also absolutely no way he is going to risk losing Magnus. Losing what they have simply isn't worth getting the ever-growing weight of his feelings off his chest by telling Magnus. It just isn't.

Well, maybe Alec _would_ actually get up the nerve to ask Magnus out if he had so much as the slightest inkling that the other man might even be somewhat interested in him.

Sure, Magnus admittedly does flirt with Alec, does so rather constantly even. But having known the man for a while now, Alec also knows that Magnus kind of flirts with _everyone_, has actually been flirting with Alec pretty much ever since the very moment they met, so he knows better than to read anything into it.

And with how hyper-aware Alec is of every tiny little thing Magnus does, trust him when he says, he'd _know_ if anything about Magnus' behavior towards him ever changed.

Yeah, he'd know right away.

He blinks himself back into the present when the line in front of him finally moves forward a couple of steps.

It takes another couple of minutes until it’s finally his turn to order. When he finally does have his two coffees and scones in hand and turns to leave the shop, he somehow isn’t all that surprised to find the group of giggling girls still lingering rather obviously in front of the door.

It just makes him want to sigh.

But he doesn’t have the time to linger here and wait for the lot of them to just give up. Nothing for it, then.

So, he just strides towards the door and is utterly unsurprised when one of the girls ‘coincidentally’ reaches the door just as he gets there as well.

Well, she does proceed to even hold the door open for him – good thing too, seeing as his hands are full – and he calmly nods to her in thanks. But he then also promptly ignores the immediate, bright, flirtatious smile she is sending him, all coyly tilted head and batting eyelashes, mouth opening to say something - most likely something absolutely inane that would have promptly garnered her a scathing remark from Alec...

Well, she _would_ likely have said something.

If it weren't for the fact that Alec is already striding past her, honestly already having dismissed the entire group – probably wouldn’t even have noticed them in the first place if it hadn’t been for all the giggling and glancing and near-pointing at him – and now entirely focused on reaching his actual goal, a rather familiar lecture hall in the history building.

He doesn't have time for anyone else.

So, okay, he doesn't actually _have_ to be anywhere until his next class in about two hours...

But.

It's also Tuesday, which means Magnus has a half-hour break between his afternoon classes and, well, Alec was due a coffee break between grading essays from the course he has been assigned to teach pretty much on his own and working on his own studies anyway. And he might as well spend that break in decent company.

Right.

And so what if Alec doesn’t need to check in order to know that Magnus should have finished his class about five minutes ago? So what if Alec might have the other man's entire weekly schedule perfectly memorized? That's really no one's business but his own.

He finally makes it to the correct hallway, can already see the doors up ahead, can't help the slight smile tugging at his lips in anticipation.

Which promptly slides off his face again the moment he actually reaches the doors, being replaced with a scowl at the sight that greets him.

The sight of Magnus still at his desk at the front of the lecture hall, his bag already packed but clearly waiting for something.

Alec would even preen a little, fully aware that it is him Magnus is waiting for - it's not like Alec's visit in this particular timeslot is anything new - but his good mood is entirely dashed by the sight of the two students crowding around the desk in front of Magnus.

And, of course, Magnus is still smiling - always so very nice and kind and cheerful where his students are concerned - but he also isn't showing the least bit of interest in either of them.

Something Alec really wishes the students would pick up on as well.

If only because it would greatly help Alec's own peace of mind if people would stop coming on to the man he himself... _likes_. Yes, 'like' is a good word. Not the other words that might be a little more on the extreme side of things considering that they haven't actually ever gone on a date and considering the fact that Magnus doesn't actually seem to be interested in anything but friendship from Alec.

Yes, let's go with 'like'.

+++

Magnus smiles, easily answers the rather... bland question Lindsay Thurpin just asked him.

He doesn’t react to the way she is leaning onto his desk, rather shamelessly showing off her cleavage and her ridiculously short skirt. And, sure, Magnus is all for 'strutting your stuff' but he also lives by the rule that a certain finesse never goes amiss.

Well, her come-hither smile is easy to simply look past, seeing as he has more than enough practice in ignoring his students' flirtations.

Case in point, Brian Lawson who is still standing with his hip propped against the other side of his desk, despite Magnus already having answered all of his 'questions' about today's material, now seemingly just sticking around for no other reason than to continue flexing his muscles at him.

_Honestly._

Magnus just suppresses a sigh.

You'd think at some point his students would collectively realize that he _never_ goes out with anyone who is attending any of his classes or might potentially do so in the future.

And even if that weren’t a personal rule of his, it’s not like he is even vaguely tempted in the first place, no matter what they apparently seem to think about their own allure. Seriously, like there is any chance whatsoever that he might decide to simply drag one of these barely-twenty-one-years olds off to bed with him.

Well, okay, admittedly there _is_ a certain twenty-four year old Magnus wouldn't mind dragging off to… well, _wherever_, really.

But that’s a completely different story.

For one, with Alexander actually working on getting his graduate degree in criminal justice - forever focused on his goal of joining the FBI one day - he isn’t actually part of Magnus’ department and thus that self-imposed no-dating-his-students rule simply doesn’t apply to him.

And secondly, Magnus would honestly challenge _anyone_ to try and actually resist Alexander.

Alexander who is almost _unreasonably_ gorgeous and so very self-confident, but somehow still pretty reserved, even standoffish with most people – an introvert if ever there was one – while also so endearingly enthusiastic about the most random of topics but still somehow being adorably shy sometimes…

Yeah, Magnus has known he didn’t stand a chance against this one pretty much ever since they met.

Not to even mention how difficult it has made finding anyone _else_ who could possibly ever compare or even come _close_ to living up to Magnus’ rather new, Alexander-derived standards.

Which brings him right back to his two students still lingering in front of his desk.

Honestly, these two and their absolutely blatant flirting would be almost humorous if it weren't also so very exhausting to deal with, so more-of-the-same. And also rather ill-timed.

Seeing as Magnus is actually kind of waiting for someone.

Not that he and Alexander actually _agreed_ to meet here during Magnus' afternoon break... Then again, them having coffee together whenever their schedules align had already become the norm last semester, already a sort-of-routine barely weeks into the two of them knowing each other.

It still baffles him sometimes when he thinks about just how easily and immediately the two of them hit it off.

And by now, Alexander's appearances at Magnus’ lecture hall during their breaks has become so routine, he tends to firmly – and rather automatically – schedule them into his days. Almost like their shared coffee breaks were actual dates.

Despite the fact that they _specifically_ aren't anything of the sort. As much as Magnus might still hope for that to change at some point.

Point is, Magnus has plans and a glance at the clock at the back of the room tells him that Alexander is already a couple minutes late, which means he should be showing up any time now.

Now, how to rid himself of his two over-eager students?

Which is the exact moment, Magnus spots movement by the door from the corner of his eye and he is immediately glancing over, smile already forming on his face, brightening even further when he – as expected – does find Alexander standing in the doorway to the hall, holding coffee as usual. And wearing a rather severe frown, which, quite honestly, is also rather usual.

"Alexander," he greets brightly.

So what if his demeanor changes somewhat abruptly whenever a certain rather tall, rather dark, and rather handsome _someone_ makes an appearance? Magnus has no problem with letting his delight at Alexander's presence show. Like, none whatsoever.

The fact that even his two rather oblivious, still lingering students pick up on the fact that they have entirely lost Magnus' attention is only a bonus, even if it has the two of them promptly flipping around to see who is to blame for that change.

Although, they both immediately lose their scowls as soon as they actually spot Alexander. Whether due to the sight itself – which is quite _something_, in Magnus’ entirely unbiased opinion – or due to the really-rather-impressive scowl being aimed at them currently, Magnus can't tell.

He also doesn’t much care.

Finally, Alexander rather clearly seems to entirely dismiss the two students still lingering at his desk and instead proceeds to focus his entire rather formidable attention on Magnus.

_As it should be._

"Magnus," he greets back, frown brightening at least slightly when he looks at him. "You free for your break now?"

"Certainly," he confirms cheerfully. "I was just waiting for you."

He ignores the way his students are now glancing between Magnus and Alexander, something speculative and clearly rather disappointed in their eyes.

And Magnus _knows_ what they are thinking, knows the impression they are getting from Alexander - in all his tall-dark-and-handsome, leather-clad glory - showing up at his lecture hall just in time for his break, coffee in hand.

Yes, Magnus knows _exactly_ what conclusions they are drawing about the sort of relationship he and Alexander must have.

It just makes him want to sigh forlornly.

_Oh, how I wish._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another human AU and this time with the two of them as mutually pining idiots, something I haven’t written before. So, yay, an excuse to add yet another plot bunny to the list XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	6. Debts owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if, when Alec asked for Magnus' magic back, Asmodeus hadn't demanded his son's broken heart in return? (Fix-it, What-if snippet)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts in the middle of that scene in the old warlock’s shop, right after Asmodeus named his price for returning Magnus’ magic.

Alec knows there is a dark scowl on his face, doesn’t even try to hide it.

He quite honestly doesn't even care right now, despite his current company. Instead, he barely keeps himself from scoffing out loud at the mere idea that he would ever agree to truly hurt Magnus.

Alec is here to make things _better_, not worse.

Irritatingly enough, Asmodeus just looks dismissively amused at Alec’s immediate and rather forceful refusal.

"Yes, yes," Asmodeus waves him off. "You are the embodiment of all that is good and righteous and never would you possibly so as much as _risk_ hurting my son, I'm sure." There is something so very sharp in the demon's voice and the words almost make Alec flinch.

Because he suddenly has to struggle to suppress the deluge of memories that definitely contradict the demon’s words.

Memories of Alec hurting Magnus so often, far _too_ often, of being so very careless with the heart of the man he loves, of seemingly always being left offering entirely inadequate apologies to Magnus in the aftermath.

Apologies that are of course always immediately accepted. Despite the fact that Alec just keeps on hurting him.

A trend that started way back, before they ever even got together. And he can’t help but think of those first couple of weeks of knowing Magnus and kind of just stringing him along, always denying that there could possibly ever be anything between them, claiming that Magnus could not possibly be worth Alec putting himself out there, but sure as hell not staying away long enough to actually give Magnus the chance to let go, forever showing up at the loft for some reason or other, a request, a plea, a demand, once more reeling the warlock in.

Sure, Alec hadn’t done it maliciously, hadn’t even really been aware of what he was doing, simply forever looking for any excuse to once more get to see Magnus despite constantly denying his attraction to the man. Even to himself.

During that time he had been so desperately adrift as his world was turned upside down, relationships and the very foundations upon which he had built his life changing or even crumbling from underneath him. And even back then, Magnus and his obvious, ever-present delight at seeing Alec had been like an anchor, like a steady rock to briefly find his footing again in the madness that was his life.

Which however doesn't change how unfair it had been to Magnus.

That indecisiveness on his part, stringing Magnus along just because he hadn’t been able to get the warlock out of his head despite his own certainty that marrying Lydia was ‘the right thing to do’, is still one of his bigger regrets.

There is a glint in Asmodeus’ eyes as he watches Alec that tells him his utterly impassive mask isn't enough to keep the Greater Demon from guessing just what he might be thinking about.

A thought that is promptly confirmed when Asmodeus tilts his head towards him just the slightest bit, voice soft but so very malicious as he adds on with a nonchalant gesture, "And I'm certain you would never let anyone _else_ get away with doing any sort of harm to my son." The briefest pause, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Would you, Mr. Lightwood?"

And Alec knows what the Greater demon is doing, knows he is trying to bring Alec's self-doubts to the forefront of his mind, drawing up the darker thoughts about himself and others that he is usually so very good at systematically analyzing away.

But _knowing_ \- being fully aware of Asmodeus' intent - doesn't change the fact that his mind is already going down that path, making him remember all those incredibly stupid decisions he and his siblings and so many other people have made along the way, every single one of which Magnus seems to somehow have ended up paying the price for.

He remembers Jace going with Valentine, Max getting hurt, Izzy's Yin Feng addiction. And Magnus always being there to help, while Alec barely ever spared a thought for him, sometimes even deciding to take his anger out on _Magnus_ for some reason.

He remembers Azazel and the body switch with Valentine, and Alec's heart still clenches, entire chest constricting in pain at the memory of just how badly he had fucked up there, the irreparable damage he had caused. Which Magnus had then of course promptly forgiven him for without so much as even asking Alec _why_ it had been so hard for him to tell the difference between a mass murderer and the man he was dating.

A question he still sometimes asks himself when lying awake in bed at night, Magnus’ warmth pressed along his side. Alec still doesn’t have an answer.

He remembers the Soulsword fiasco and purposely lying to Magnus, fully aware that he was actually _betraying_ his boyfriend's trust, and somehow Alec _still_ got away scot-free. While Magnus ended up losing his position as the High Warlock as a result of that entire mess, one of the few things in his life his boyfriend truly treasured.

And it makes him cringe when he thinks about himself forever lamenting how _hard_ it was for him as a Shadowhunter to date a Downworlder, but not once so much as asking just how the Downworld might be reacting to Magnus dating _him_, a Shadowhunter, a Lightwood, the Head of an Institute. Because Alec isn't naive enough not to realize that Magnus' decision to publicly be with him likely being one of the reasons NYC's warlock had been so quick to lose faith in him and decided to vote in Lorenzo as the High Warlock instead.

Of course, Magnus doesn't hold any of that against him, easily forgiving Alec for his missteps, his mistakes, forever willing to hand out second chances, as always far too kind-hearted for Alec's own peace of mind.

But that had only been the start.

Because _then_, Jace had been turned into the owl. And Alec had practically sent Magnus to Edom to fix it with barely a token protest, his own silence at Magnus' question of _'tell me Jace isn't worth it'_ still ringing in his ears. He thinks out of everything that has happened between them, _that_ is what he regrets most.

Not having spoken up in that moment. Not telling Magnus that there is no comparison between him and Jace. That the thought of losing Magnus is just as utterly _unfathomable_ to him as the thought of losing his parabatai.

That Alec never intended to trade one of their lives for the other’s.

_Especially_, as it ended with Magnus giving away his magic to spare Alec the pain of losing his parabatai, yet something else that Magnus treasured lost, yet another instance of Magnus giving up a part of himself for Alec’s sake.

Trading Alec's pain for his own.

Not that Alec had even realized just what Magnus had sacrificed for his sake.

He honestly doesn't know what was going on with him back then that he so entirely missed it, missed his boyfriend’s pain, but somehow the fact that Magnus had traded away _a piece of himself_ in return for Jace's life, hadn't really occurred to him at all.

Not until that night on the balcony.

It had just seemed like such a straightforward trade before. Magnus giving away his magic and in return being able to save Jace.

And wasn't it _just wonderful_ that Alec got everything he wanted in the process, not only his parabatai safe and sound, but also a suddenly mortal boyfriend who would now even grow old with Alec, conveniently taking care of one of his biggest insecurities along the way.

How nice for Alec.

And how much of an ignorant, self-centered asshole he had been to entirely ignore just what that trade had actually _cost_ Magnus.

He himself would balk at the idea of giving up his runes for anything. And Magnus had given up much more than that. For Alec's sake.

So, Alec doesn’t think he has any sort of excuse for being so damn selfishly self-involved that he hadn't even realized the man he loves was _breaking_ inside, only having gotten the first inkling that something was even lastingly wrong at all when Magnus literally gave up his home, centuries of collected memories, in order to regain even a taste of his magic by making a deal with Lorenzo.

And even then, it had taken Alec longer still to finally open his eyes.

It had taken him right until that moment on the balcony, when Alec had been cheerfully planning to propose to his boyfriend, so very happy at the idea of them taking the _next_ step in their lives, only to watch utterly horrified as Magnus fell to pieces in his arms, having been so incredibly blind to the fact that the man he loves was still mourning for something he so recently lost.

It was only _then_ that he finally realized that Magnus had literally given up _everything_ for Alec, had traded everything he treasured in his life away for him and his happiness, while Alec just continued to selfishly take and take and take, and only ever seems to realize what he has once more cost Magnus when it is already too late to do something about it.

His teeth clench.

_No more. _

He swore to himself that he will _fix_ this. And that he will never again let Magnus be the one to solely carry the burden of everyone else’s mistakes.

When he finally glances up to once more face the Greater demon across from him, he is entirely unsurprised at the satisfied, malicious gleam in Asmodeus' eyes as he watches Alec, looking down his nose at him, possibly knowing exactly just what is going through Alec's mind.

No, Alec wouldn’t be at all surprised if Asmodeus even knew beforehand exactly what sort of memories and regrets this conversation would kick loose in his mind.

"Well, Mr. Lightwood," Asmodeus smiles a breathtakingly beautiful, heartwarmingly friendly, bone-chillingly cruel smile. "It seems, asking you to break my son’s heart, might not be much of a payment after all.”

Alec barely keeps himself from flinching at the insinuation of that simple statement.

But at the same time something almost like desperation runs through him. Because that almost sounds like Asmodeus might not think Alec has anything to offer that would make returning Magnus' magic worth it.

Alec came here because he _needs_ Asmodeus to give Magnus back his magic, needs to be able to _for once _return something to the man he loves, just that one piece. Needs to undo what has been done for his sake and the sake of others and never for the sake of the man he loves.

He knew before he ever decided to contact Asmodeus that - short of killing his own family - Alec would literally pay any price asked of him. _Anything_ to give Magnus back his magic.

Doubts stir in his mind whether denying Asmodeus' demand out of hand had been the right choice.

Because, isn't this just another example of Alec being selfish? Not wanting to burden himself with yet another instance of hurting Magnus, even if it would also mean undoing the deal Magnus made with his father for Alec's sake?

Because if Alec were to agree, if he were to break his boyfriend’s heart - and shatter his own heart in the process - it's not like Magnus wouldn't be able to recover.

Magnus has loved before. Magnus is _immortal_.

So, surely he would find someone else to love at some point, even if Alec knows with utter certainty that he himself will never love again like this.

Magnus is _it_ for him.

So, shouldn't Magnus' eventual happiness be worth the utter misery of breaking both of their hearts right now?

On the other hand, Alec _swore_ to himself to do everything in his power to never hurt Magnus again, much less willingly or, angel forbid, _purposely_.

After watching Magnus fall apart in front of him while he - in the privacy of his own mind - had even been quietly celebrating the fact that with Magnus now no longer immortal, he swore to himself to finally start putting his boyfriend first, to start watching out for the man he loves as much as Magnus has been unequivocally watching out for Alec.

As it should be.

So, what is he to do when his only choice seems to be to save Magnus’ life by breaking his heart?

He swallows.

But before he can actually say anything - about reconsidering, about taking back his previous refusal, knowing he is in no way above even begging if it truly comes down to it - Asmodeus is already speaking again. "Hm. Seeing as my son stipulated that I do not take the payment for this particular deal out of you personally, and if I am also not to take the payment out of my son as per _your_ demand, then it seems I will just have to look for my payment elsewhere.”

There is something so leisurely calm, so utterly relaxed, so languidly indifferent in his voice, directly contrasting the odd mix of emotions running through Alec. Relief at getting another chance. Suspicion about just what ‘elsewhere’ might mean. And immediate guilt at feeling so very relieved that it sounds like someone other than Magnus might be paying the price for once.

But Alec can also tell that there is something to that statement, some sort of implication that he is missing.

And for once, Asmodeus seems entirely content to just wait Alec out, his entire demeanor calm, easy, relaxed, clearly not in any sort of hurry and fully aware just who between the two of them is holding all the power in this conversation.

Alec already refused one deal offered to him. They _both_ know he will not refuse another.

So, Alec finally concedes, gives up on waiting the Greater Demon out – and if 'looking away first' keeps Asmodeus generally agreeable then that is truly no sacrifice on his part – and asks, "’Elsewhere’ being _where_ exactly?"

And Asmodeus' smile just widens, the very picture of languid relaxation as he replies with a flourish. "Why, from everyone _else_ who owes my son, of course."

Alec blinks.

Somehow that isn’t what he expected to hear at all.

But clearly Asmodeus is rather happy with where their discussion is currently going as he continues, "By what I have been hearing about the going-ons topside, people seem to have forgotten that despite my son's so _embarrassingly_ giving nature, he is still my direct descendant,_ my_ son, my _blood_."

And suddenly there is something so dark and foreboding and malicious in the demon's eyes that Alec almost wants to pull away a little. He doesn't, but only barely manages to keep himself from flinching away.

"I think it might be about time that I remind everyone that accepting favors from one of my bloodline without repaying those debts in full is a folly best not repeated. That any debts owed to my son are also owed to me by right of bloodline. And that _I_, in contrast to my son, am more than willing to ensure that any debts _owed_ to my line are paid in _full_." There is power vibrating in the air around them, power and malice and something almost like anticipation.

And Alec breathes out, barely keeps it from coming out too harshly at the revelation of exactly what Asmodeus is going for here.

Of course he has heard of bloodline debts before. Vaguely, but he's heard of them. Debts wrought in blood and magic, untouched by the passage of time, a reimbursement system of old, inescapable once invoked.

But he also knows that there are very clear rules defined by magic itself that govern blood debts, rules about what can be asked as repayment and very clear limits to what cannot be requested. Like asking for one’s life being off limits. Or like children being entirely exempt, any debt incurred by those not yet mature simply not being collectible, not even at any point in the future.

And seeing as Asmodeus does have a direct blood relation to Magnus, it is in fact his right to call in any debts owed to his line. As long as he knows the exact circumstances of any debts incurred. And as long as those debts are signed over to him.

And suddenly, Alec knows exactly just what Asmodeus is planning to ask him next, knows exactly what he will demand as payment for the return of Magnus' magic.

A list of names. Names of anyone who owes Magnus in any way, including the debts owed and the exact circumstances by which they were incurred, as well as any payments that have already been made.

As well as an assurance that those debts will be Asmodeus’ to call in.

Considering _how many_ people owe Magnus in some manner or committed some sort of slight against him, Alec is sure Asmodeus will get his payment _several times over_ by collecting from everyone individually.

But even so, even before the Greater Demon actually makes that demand, Alec already knows he won't refuse, _can't_ refuse.

Not when this is likely going to be Asmodeus' last offer, Alec's last chance to get Magnus' magic back.

And he can’t help but wonder whether Asmodeus offered this as a possible deal to Magnus when he went to Edom to ask for his father’s help. Or whether Asmodeus purposely waited until this very moment, when the leverage in his hands makes refusal of his demand plain impossible.

Either way, Alec is utterly unsurprised when Asmodeus finally continues, "So, Mr. Lightwood, in return for my son's magic, I demand a list. A list of everyone who owes my son. And I do mean _everyone_ you know of, every debt mentioned to you or witnessed by you, no matter whether my son or you personally consider them to be already paid in full or not."

Alec narrows his eyes. Because him giving Asmodeus a list of debtors is only half of what the Greater Demon will need to actually get his payment.

Clearly, Asmodeus can tell just what he is thinking, his cruel smile widening. "I am absolutely certain my son will easily sign over any debts you promise to me. He will not dare void any deal we make, lest I decide to take the payment out of you in recompense after all." Condescension is practically dripping from his voice as he concludes, "My son is weak. And _you_, Mr. Lightwood, are his weakness.” A beautiful smile, absolutely bone-chilling in the pure malice curling at its edges. “And thus, I will collect every debt owed to my bloodline as is my right, and demand payment as I see fit."

Alec doesn’t know whether he wants to smile or to cringe at the fact that Magnus’ absolute refusal to put Alec in harm’s way is so utterly immutable, predictable, _unquestionable_ that even one of the Greater Demons is willing to simply bank on that very fact.

Well, Asmodeus also isn’t wrong.

And maybe Alec shouldn't ever even consider this, shouldn't think about how Jace maybe should be made to carry some of the burden of his own mistakes, how Izzy should have had to pay somehow for breaking trust and alliances whenever it suits her own moral standards, how the Seelie Queen had directly betrayed Magnus and never even considered there might be a price to pay for that decision, how Clary has never once returned any of the favors Magnus tends to hand out so very freely no matter the cost to himself, how even Catarina had denied Magnus her help when he most needed it no matter her reasons, how Lorenzo is using his position to gain personal revenge for some sort of imagined slight on Magnus' part, how Lilith has been playing with them all in revenge for something none of them had any hand in.

Countless debts unpaid, all of them owed to the man he loves.

And Alec _knows_ that Magnus is never going to call in any of them, won't even try. His far too soft-hearted warlock only ever interested in taking what people are willing to freely offer. Which, in all honesty, never turns out to be very much at all.

So, staring back at the Greater Demon in front of him, meeting his condescendingly mocking gaze, Alec simply can't help but think that maybe it really is about time all those people - including himself and his family - who keep screwing Magnus over, finally pay back some of what they owe.

Especially if it means that in return they can give back something of immeasurable value to Magnus.

His magic.

Because Magnus has saved all of their lives at some point, protected everything they hold dear several times over. But, somehow, whenever it comes down to it, no one ever seems to be quite willing to actually repay those favors. Magnus just keeps giving and giving. And _this time_, the cost was simply too high.

"So." Asmodeus pauses, something dark and anticipatory and maliciously ominous in the demon's eyes as he finally repeats once more, "A list of debts owed, Mr. Lightwood. That is my price."

The barest twirl of the Asmodeus’ fingers has pen and paper manifest on the table between them - almost like a challenge - even as Alec unflinchingly meets his stare.

And maybe it’s the rather jarring contrast of seeing that endless malice glowing from _those_ eyes – the same golden cat eyes he absolutely adored on Magnus, those eyes that used to be forever alight with joy and caring and everything _bright_ in Alec’s world – but in the end it only serves to firm his resolve.

Because in the greater scheme of things, losing his cat eyes might seem like something rather insignificant, but it also represents everything that Magnus lost.

Alec swallows, clenches his teeth and affirms his decision that if Magnus won't be selfish for his own sake, then Alec will damn well _have_ to be.

Even if that means that everyone else will for once have to pay for their own mistakes instead of leaving the most kind-hearted person to ever walk the earth to do it for them.

So, under the satisfied, cruelly glowing eyes of a Greater Demon – eyes so similar but also entirely different from those that Alec so desperately misses seeing on the man he loves – he finally breathes out.

And sets pen to paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Purely introspective, a bit of a what-if twist, but still strangely non-fluffy compared to my usual writing. This actually started out as a 500 word mini-chapter of me just venting my various grievances with the show and how often Magnus got screwed over by literally everyone. But then the salt just kept piling up XD 
> 
> And I also just really like the idea of Asmodeus now cheerfully skipping around the world, getting his pound of flesh out of everyone who ever wronged Magnus (mostly because it’s to his own benefit but also because ‘how dare anyone mess with his son without discussing it with Asmodeus first?!’ XD). Like that thing with the Seelie Queen betraying Magnus, which still pisses me off. So, there.
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	7. Focus (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pretty boy scene, from Alec's POV.

Alec only listens with half an ear to the discussion going on around him.

He quite simply doesn't _care_ about Clary's various woes in making a decision for or against the summoning ritual. You know, that ritual to get her memories back which is also the _sole_ _reason_ they came here in the first place.

Honestly, he still doesn't quite know whether he just wants to sigh in exasperation or grind his teeth in frustration at this entire situation.

But it's not like this girl would listen to his input even if Alec had any, much less if he dared contradicting her in any way. For some reason, the only thing that currently appears to matter is one Clary Fray's personal opinions on what is right and what isn't. Never mind that 'the right thing' seems to have a rather convenient tendency of perfectly coinciding with her personal agenda at any given time.

Still, no matter what she decides on, they all know she is going to get whatever she wants anyway, one way or another.

His parabatai made _that_ fact perfectly clear outside the rave earlier.

So, Alec only cares about whatever plan they'll actually decide on, if for no other reason than so he can try to mitigate any new messes his siblings might end up creating next.

Instead, Alec uses the time while everyone is distracted with planning to throw another - hopefully surreptitious - glance at the warlock currently standing beside Izzy, only a couple of steps away from him.

Or rather '_Magnus_', as he introduced himself to Alec a couple of minutes ago... in that other room... where Alec had been barely able to get out his own name, much less a complete sentence that actually made sense.

Everything about this man is just so damn dazzling.

Even Alec, who has long since trained himself out of noticing these sorts of things - lest someone else pick up on his attraction to people he isn't supposed to be attracted _to_ \- can't help but notice just how inordinately gorgeous the warlock is. 

Another surreptitious glance, and he can't help but let his eyes drag briefly over the tight pants and patterned jacket, the jewelry and the painted nails, fluidly moving hands, a flourish in his every gesture, a slight smirk seeming to be constantly playing around the man's lips, his eyes outlined in black, dark and beautiful and seeming to almost sparkle with amusement as though inwardly laughing at a joke only he is actually privy to, making it rather difficult for Alec to look away from him at all.

Angel be damned, but he is _pretty_.

He makes himself glance away, tunes back into the discussion briefly to check whether they are finally nearing some sort of conclusion.

Just in time, it seems, to catch the tail-end of Clary's rather dramatic assertion that she'd do _anything_ to get her mother back.

Which is great for her. And - considering how things have been going recently - is probably going to suck for everyone else. Mostly, for Alec.

He barely keeps himself from sighing out loud at that thought.

But at least they seem to finally be getting somewhere, the - entirely superfluous - planning session apparently concluded.

"Pretty boy," Magnus commands rather imperiously, waving his hand in Jace's general direction. "Get your team ready."

And Jace promptly glances over at Alec, as though waiting for some sort of cue from him.

_Ah. Now that your crush is already getting what she wants, we're back to caring about my opinion again, are we?_ Alec can't help but think sardonically.

Still, at this point arguing will be entirely useless, so they might as well see this mess through.

And at least the pretty warlock - who they've broken about a dozen Clave laws in order to contact - seems to actually know what he is talking about.

_Be grateful for small mercies and all that._

So, Alec just shrugs at his parabatai, giving the go-ahead, even if he can't help but silently wish Jace had put even half as much thought into _today's_ _entire plan_, as he is putting into this one decision right now.

Jace just reacts by affecting an aggrieved sigh, but then goes to do as commanded by the warlock.

He makes it about two steps.

A sudden hand on his chest pretty much stops him in his tracks, and there is something humorous, something condescendingly amused in the warlock's expression as he shakes his head slightly, almost seems to click his tongue at Jace.

"I'm not _talking_ to you," Magnus intones, rolling his eyes, even seeming to scoff slightly. As though the mere _assumption_ were absolutely ludicrous.

They are all blinking at the warlock now, wondering just what the man is talking about.

He _just_ said...

Magnus waits a second, then scoffs again, this time seemingly including their entire group in his amused derision. Before he proceeds to simply push Jace back into his previous spot beside Alec - and, yeah, the ease with which the warlock simply pushes Jace aside, as though his parabatai were barely any obstacle at all, is really rather... _impressive_ \- and there seems to be honest amusement in his eyes now, expression turning just a fraction warmer as he calmly removes his hand from Jace's chest.

And then intones in his warm, lilting voice, "_I'm _talking to... _you_."

Alec blinks rather baffled at the finger suddenly pointing at _his_ chest.

_Me. He was talking to _me_? But... He said 'pretty boy', didn't he?_

A second.

_Oh._

The smile that Alec can feel tugging at his lips is entirely automatic, involuntary, only curving up a little further when he glances up from the finger still pointing straight at him to meet Magnus' eyes.

He simply can't help the smile.

It's just. Alec doesn't think anyone has ever called him... well, _anything_ before. Much less actually called him _pretty_.

He meets Magnus' eyes - so full of gentle amusement and something warmly teasing - and feels his smile widening just the slightest bit further.

Which is the exact moment, everyone else seems to catch up as well.

Heads swinging around, all eyes promptly switching to focus on Alec.

He promptly does his best to wipe the smile off his face - though he isn't sure how well he actually succeeds at that - as he meets Jace's, then Izzy's eyes, shrugs in supposed confusion when his siblings just continue to stare at him, clearly too baffled to even pay Magnus - who proceeds to wander off to another room, Clary in tow - any note.

Alec just shrugs and pretends confusion. Like he doesn't get what's going on at all.

But he does. Oh, does he ever.

Magnus is _flirting_ with him, flirting with _Alec_.

_Angel._

No one who Alec has ever found even remotely attractive has ever flirted with him.

Not that he has any clue whatsoever what he is supposed to _do_ with this, how to react, much less how to flirt _back_.

But, still.

Just the knowledge that someone like _Magnus_ \- so pretty and dazzling and honestly really rather captivating - actually seems to find Alec attractive, enough to flirt with him, is certainly rather nice, _exhilarating_ even.

So for now, he just pushes down that thrill pulsing through him, suppresses the heat he can feel threatening to crawl up his neck, and instead just blinks at his siblings, affecting a mask of utter nonchalance.

And he makes sure not to let any of his amusement at Jace's current, almost _offended_ expression - offense most likely at having been so easily dismissed by _anyone_, honest surprise at someone _else_ being called 'pretty' while one Jace Wayland himself is still in the room - show.

_Well, how nice that this is turning out to be a day of firsts for _both_ of us, then, _Alec can’t help but think sardonically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is actually just the first scene of a what-if plot bunny I currently have in mind (which should ultimately end up flipping Alec and Jace's dynamic at that point of season 1 around a little). Because I absolutely adored those first couple of scenes in the loft with Magnus flirting and Alec being adorably oblivious and Jace acting all amusingly offended throughout :3 And I just really wish the writers hadn't then promptly made them all just forget about it all immediately after, because... character development, anyone?  
Thus, I decided to write just that :)
> 
> But once I had this segment done, I figured I might as well post it separately since I absolutely loved this scene in the series and the what-if twist only happens after this anyway. So, this chapter is kind of standalone, but there will also be a second part to this :)
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	8. Antithesis (part 2)

When Magnus feels the pull of the summoning stone, calling for him, calling him to the mundane world, he honestly can’t help but feel somewhat surprised.

Sure, it's not the first time Raphael has used the stone Magnus left him the same night the warlocks left the mundane world behind, but his little vampire has always taken it as a last resort, a way to get in contact with him but only if he ever truly needed help.

The last time Raphael called for him was almost four years ago now, when the Shadowhunters had finally figured out where the vampires all over the world were getting their blood from, only for the Clave to promptly proceed to simply _poison_ the supply stock in every single mundane blood bank they could find.

Magnus can even admit that it had been a rather clever – if somewhat genocidal – plan in order to get rid of vampires in general. Though, _never mind_ the countless mundane lives that had been lost due to the poisoned blood as ‘collateral damage’ in that particular scheme of the Clave’s.

But point is, Raphael had been desperate and had thus called Magnus for help, hoping for a way for his clan get their blood somewhere else.

Well, it had been rather simple for Magnus to just set up a purifying chamber that simply got rid of any contaminants in their usual blood supply. Problem solved and no one the wiser.

And the time before _that_ when Raphael had called for him had been... what? Eight years ago now? When he needed Magnus’ help dealing with Camille who'd been just as carelessly screwing things up for everyone as always, playing her games and putting their entire clan at risk, almost bringing the Circle down on top of them despite the rather impenetrable wards Magnus had cast around Hotel Dumort to prevent anything of the sort from happening.

Now, well, she’s not a problem any longer.

And_, of course_, Magnus had left his Downworlder children ways to contact him even across realms. And he also goes to visit them whenever it strikes his fancy, went to see Raphael just last month, actually.

Just because the Warlock Council – his own vote admittedly very much included – decided to lock themselves away in the Labyrinth for a bit, to let the Clave reap what they sowed for once, doesn't mean Magnus was ever going to abandon those he holds near and dear to his heart. Not ever.

Which brings him back to the call, the summoning suddenly tugging at him, letting him know that Raphael is in need of his help.

His little vampire has always liked being independent, a need that seems to have only increased ever since he took over as leader of the Dumort Clan, and very much likes to avoid actually calling for Magnus.

So, for him to be calling at all, means it’s likely rather urgent.

Thus, as soon as he feels the call Magnus is already moving, grabbing a couple of things that might come in handy along the way, simply depending on whatever Raphael might need him for.

The preparation barely takes a minute or so. And, then he is already focusing inward, takes a couple of moments to gather the magic he’ll need, lets it build until the inter-realm portal – a spell that only a mere handful of warlocks alive even have the power to cast at all – is forming in front of him.

He steps through without hesitation, lets his magic guide him along the runic connection, towards the summoning stone that is calling him.

Although, his intrigue promptly increases once he realizes that the call isn't actually leading him to Hotel Dumort as he expected. But rather towards a completely different part of New York, underground, and also werewolf territory if he is reading the energy correctly?

Now, what could possibly have brought Raphael _here_ of all places?

_How curious, _Magnus thinks rather delightedly. He’d been getting rather bored lately, anyway.

When he finally steps out of the portal, all nonchalance and casual cheer, makes sure to appear utterly unconcerned as he looks around.

He is immediately greeted by the sight of his forever-frowning dear little vampire, an entire collection of werewolves more or less gaping at Magnus.

But it's definitely the presence of the _Shadowhunter_ – leaning faux-casually against one of the walls off to the side, entire posture alert, eyes attentive on the people surrounding him on all sides, focus immediately switching to Magnus as soon as he appears a little distance away – that truly surprises Magnus. It’s been _decades_ since he’s been truly surprised by anything.

Which isn’t even mentioning the _warlock_ _magic_ \- untrained, unrestrained, the way only the magic of small children ever is - Magnus can feel coming from the bundle cuddled rather protectively against the Shadowhunter's chest.

Magnus blinks.

There is a definite sort of uncompromising protectiveness - unwavering alertness, unmitigated caution - obvious in every line of the Shadowhunter's body. Protectiveness of the warlock child he is apparently holding.

Magnus blinks again, then feels a slight grin tug at the corner of his mouth.

_Well, isn’t this just wonderfully intriguing._

Seems like things have indeed been happening here.

It takes him only a couple of seconds to take all of that in, before he is turning smoothly to face Raphael, still standing next to who must be the werewolf alpha of New York these days.

“Hello, my dear boy,” he greets cheerfully. Purposely disregarding the odd meeting place and the even odder company, acts as though the fact that they are in werewolf territory and that there is a nephilim present, were of no note at all.

His greeting gets him a resigned sigh, something like a nod in greeting. "Hello, Magnus," his moody little vampire returns blandly, as the werewolves around them continue to stare at the warlock suddenly present amongst them.

Magnus barely keeps from grinning.

+++

Alec tries to project calm nonchalance as his eyes continue constantly scanning his surroundings and the people not-so-subtly forming ring around him.

Ever since he revealed the child’s presence, everyone’s eyes have been fixed on the lump in Alec's jacket, hiding the warlock toddler from their sight. Although, every time Alec glances down at the child, he is greeted by two bright eyes and an immediate slight coo, the toddler being apparently rather content is his dark little hiding place.

Everything is still at a bit of an impasse, no one wanting to set off the other side.

Although, it sees that might be about to change.

And Alec can admit he is honestly a little distracted by the newest arrival, can barely stop himself from letting his eyes linger on the man who appeared through the portal barely a couple of minutes ago, who is now standing several steps away from him with the Dumort Clan leader and the NYC pack alpha.

First of all, he’s a _warlock_. Alec has never met an adult warlock before.

Even if it weren't for the fact that the man just stepped through a _portal_ – though Alec has never heard of a purple portal before – or the fact that Alec can practically _feel_ the power radiating off the man, something almost like a sort of heat-haze shimmering around the man, like a bright light contrasting the all-encompassing, murky grey of their world.

But even if it weren’t for either of those things rather clearly identifying him as a warlock, his fully-on-display warlock mark – beautiful golden cat-eyes, almost seeming to glow in the half-light of the tunnel they are in – give the man's race away rather obviously.

Which, first of all, _wow_.

And second of all… _what the hell? _

Because. He _knows_ that mark. Every Shadowhunter _in the_ _world_ knows that mark.

There is only one warlock with cat-eyes, and having heard the vampire call the man ‘Magnus’ a few minutes ago, only confirms it.

This is _Magnus Bane_.

Magnus Bane, the warlock who had single-handedly laid waste to every single Shadowhunter hide-out in the entirety of New York, an immediate, merciless retaliation for the Circle's attack on one of the child warlocks apparently under the then-High Warlock's immediate protection. It had been one of the Circle’s bigger mistakes during the Purges.

Of course, the Clave has rewritten that particular bit of 'The Rebellion', as they tend to do with anything that doesn't quite fit their narrative of their own supremacy.

But it’s also one of _those_ stories. The stories that Shadowhunters tell each other in murmured conversations, hushed whispers in dark corners, voices full of awe and fear and anger and disgust.

The story of the High Warlock who had retaliated to an attack on his those under his protection by appearing on the Institute's steps, fury radiating off of him as he single-handedly tore apart the supposedly impenetrable wards, the entire building buckling under the inescapable, overwhelming vortex of fire and fury and magic, pure power, an unstoppable assault.

Until every single Shadowhunter had fled and almost all of the New York Institute had been reduced to nothing but rubble and ashes.

Well, despite the Clave’s rewriting of history, there is still a very clear order to immediately 'draw back' - read: run away - if any Shadowhunter ever ends up coming across one Magnus Bane whilst on a mission.

The point is, Alec is fairly certain that this might be the warlock who not only tore apart an entire Institute all on his own but had then also joined the _other_, truly powerful warlocks gathering from all around the world in their attack on Idris. Magnus Bane was one of the leaders, one of the powerhouses during the warlocks' retaliation.

And now he is apparently here.

And he’s also _much prettier_ than Alec thinks the man honestly has any right to be.

Because the stories about Magnus Bane talk of malevolent hatred and twisted malice, of hell-fire wrath and sadistic spite, of grotesque fury and hideous evil.

_No one_ thought to mention the glitter and the jewelry and the _hair _and… is that actual _silk_ the man is wearing?

Alec blinks, kind of just wants to sigh at the way his thoughts keep going.

_Honestly, what a time to discover my libido._

Because, _clearly_, this situation wasn't complicated enough already.

And Alec is just going to blame this all on that one werewolf who’d screwed it up for everyone.

The wolf who’d snarled rather aggressively at Alec - right when he and the alpha had finally come to an agreement - for no actual reason as far as Alec can figure.

But the wolf had snarled, and Alec had been able to _feel_ the little body settled into the crook of his arm flinch rather violently at the sudden loud noise so close to them.

There had been just the barest pause. A hiccupped sniffle. Before a wail of distress and confused fear had filled the catacombs, something almost like electricity seeming to run across Alec’s skin originating from the baby in his arms, a bright flash of light.

And then, everything had promptly gone to hell.

Not that the sight of werewolves going flying in every direction - the entire group surrounding Alec at that point having been thrown off their feet and sent backwards by the wave of instinctual magic being sent out by the child - hadn’t been rather entertaining.

But the shield that had formed around the baby – and thereby also Alec – in its wake, is definitely less so.

Because that shield doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. And now, no one is able to come within two feet of Alec and the kid any longer.

And kudos to the kid for all that power, but it also kind of has them all stuck in a sort of impasse.

Which had led to the alpha deciding to call the vampire, who in turn apparently has a direct line of contact to one of the most powerful warlocks alive.

Because, _of course_, he does.

So, yes, Alec is blaming that one werewolf. For _all_ of it.

Including the way he can’t seem to quite keep his eyes off said possibly all-powerful warlock.

He thinks the blame is well-deserved.

+++

"A shield, you say?" Magnus hums absently, even as he sends another casual glance back at the Shadowhunter still leaning against the wall several feet away from them, watching them intently.

Well, aside from the rather frequent glances the nephilim keeps throwing at the little bundle in his arms, features immediately softening just that slightest bit, so obviously barely able to suppress the smile tugging at his lips every time he does.

It’s really rather adorable and honestly just makes him want to coo at the sight.

"Yes." Alaric sighs in response. "Russell saw fit to rather aggressively threaten the Shadowhunter while he was just about to hand the child to Maia here. Which apparently scared the kid rather badly. First, all of us were sent flying by a wave of magic. And now, none of us can get within ten feet of the two of them."

"Neither can I," Raphael adds. “I can get closer than the wolves, but not enough to take the kid.”

Which explains why they saw the necessity to call Magnus here to help them solve this.

And, magic, this is quite the impasse they are all in.

The Shadowhunter who came here looking for a way to keep a warlock child safe from the Clave, the Downworlders who more than willing to do so, and the child who is too scared to let either of them do just that.

He can only hope that this Shadowhunter truly doesn't have some sort of nefarious plan brewing. Like coming here with a warlock child supposedly asking for help but only aiming to figure out if anyone in New York still has connections to the Labyrinth that might then be exploited by the Clave in some way.

On the other hand, Magnus has taken care of Raphael and his clan for more than two decades now – the wards he cast around Hotel Dumort before he finally left with the other warlocks are so strong, Shadowhunters not only aren't able to see the building anymore but they also forget it ever existed in the first place – and he is in no way worried about his ability to continue doing so. But he'll suggest to Alaric he take his pack and hide out somewhere else for a while. Just in case the Clave might get wind of this and come back here, trying to make them once more call a powerful warlock for whatever reason.

Although, there is just something in him telling him that this particular Shadowhunter doesn't actually have any nefarious intentions. There is just something absolutely honest, straightforward, almost _untarnished_ about this one...

Either way, unless they plan to kill the nephilim, the cat is out of the bag anyway. And doing so would truly be a poor way of repaying the Shadowhunter for trying to keep a Downworlder child safe.

Although, Magnus' involvement wouldn't have been necessary at all if not for one wolf's screw up. "And where might this Russell character be then?" Magnus asks faux-casually.

"He is back at the den now," Alaric provides, glances at him quickly, definitely a little worriedly. "It has been suggested to him, he stay there for the foreseeable future."

Magnus almost wants to huff. He would have taken great joy in teaching that particular wolf some manners.

Because, scaring a warlock baby? Magnus takes definite exception to that.

Warlock children already have it difficult enough in this world without idiots making it even harder. And if the Shadowhunter's story about finding the baby clearly abandoned in an alley is true, this one's childhood never even had a chance to _start _before it was already taken away again.

He glances once more over to the Shadowhunter and the little baby warlock in his arms, who seems to have taken to playing a sort of peek-a-boo game with the Shadowhunter holding him from behind the nephilim's jacket.

Magnus has to fight a smile at how the man is somehow managing to retain his air of absolute stoicism, but is still cheerfully playing along with the child despite the situation he has found himself in.

It’s honestly rather adorable.

"You trust his story?" he finally asks.

Even if he already knows that they do. At least Raphael would never have called him otherwise, not if he had any reason to believe this might be some sort of trap.

Still, Magnus would actually like to hear their reasons for said trust.

And Alaric is immediately nodding, "I can't detect any falsehood in him or in his story." A pause. “And he clearly knew where to find us but stayed away until he needed help and also seems to have kept it from anyone else who might make use of that knowledge. If he wanted us gone…” Alaric shrugs, not finishing the sentence. They all know how that sentence ends.

Magnus nods. Although, most of his attention is actually on Raphael and his rather cagey expression.

He raises an eyebrow in question.

Another couple of seconds.

Before Raphael finally sighs out and admits, "I know him.” The slightest hesitation. “I know we can trust him."

Magnus blinks. "You _know_ him? Since when do you associate with Shadowhunters of all people?"

He cheerfully injects as much faux-incredulity into his voice as he can, but he’s not actually _that_ surprised at the idea that there might still be some decent Shadowhunters around in this world.

Because Magnus has has known countless Shadowhunters over the years. And while - in general - Shadowhunters tend to be rather close-minded, bigoted, and a bit too... inclined toward group-think for his taste, he has also met quite a number of absolutely decent Shadowhunters over the years, even some he called actual friends.

So, the Clave might be going through a bad phase right now, where everyone _without_ genocidal proclivities likely has to keep their head down lest they lose it. But Magnus has seen this sort of thing before, has witnessed the rise and the fall of countless empires over the centuries.

The Clave's current regime of terror won't be any different.

It's one of the reasons he fully supported the idea for his people to simply retreat to the Labyrinth for a while, if only to give the Clave some time to sort themselves out before the warlocks will inevitably return to this realm.

Let the Clave be extreme for now, let them dig their own graves as they revel in their imagined superiority over all life on earth.

The pendulum _will_ swing back. It always does.

But. While Raphael might be on the older side by human standards, it’s still only been eight decades for him. He is simply nowhere _near_ Magnus’ level of acceptance where humanity's flaws are concerned.

"I don't 'associate' with them," Raphael returns promptly, pure irritation in his voice, in the way Magnus is rather proud to say only he himself is ever able to bring out of his little vampire. "But he’s helped us before." Another slight pause, a resigned sigh. Then, "You know that situation with the blood banks a couple of years back?”

Magnus raises his eyebrows but nods to show he does indeed remember.

Raphael makes a vague gesture. “He’s the one who warned us of the poison in the blood. Anonymously of course, and I only figured out who he was afterwards. But when I looked into him and his missions a bit, it turned out that he has a rather... _notable_ tendency for being in the right place at the right time to prevent a capture or to exonerate someone in front of the Clave.”

Magnus feels his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. "You don't say," he not-quite-asks slowly, even as he throws another glance at the nephilim now watching them seemingly even more intently than before. He can practically _feel_ his own interest in this one rising only further.

Raphael nods slightly, frown on his face. "His sister and his parabatai also seem to share that particular tendency. But the two of them really have nothing on him.” He shrugs. Then, far too casual to actually _be_ casual in any way, “By what I can tell, about half of New York's Downworld owes _him_ in particular their lives for one reason or another."

Magnus blinks.

Well, would you look at that. A nephilim with a heart, a soul, _and_ a conscience. Not to even mention that absurdly gorgeous face and body.

_And an apparent soft spot for helpless, abandoned, little warlock children. _

Magnus quirks a grin, and finally turns to focus fully on the Shadowhunter. Only to blink slightly when he finds the man’s focus already on himself.

The nephilim doesn’t even look away, clearly unbothered by being caught staring, instead simply continuing to meet his gaze. Not challenging in any way, but rather in that warm, intrigued way that says ‘I noticed you’ and ‘please, notice me back’, even if there is also something careful, something definitely assessing in his eyes.

Their eyes meet. And Magnus grants himself just a moment of getting lost in them, could honestly have stayed right _there_, just standing there, their gazes locked, for quite some time.

It’s only Raphael’s absolutely resigned sigh from beside him – most likely at Magnus’ rather apparent interest in this one – that finally brings his focus back to the present.

His smile widens, lets something a little coy curl at its edges, before he then proceeds to throw a rather blatant wink the Shadowhunter's way - who really is everything Magnus could ask for from eye-candy. And to his utter delight, instead of any sort of disgust or offense at having a warlock flirt with him, the nephilim’s mouth just seems to quirk slightly upwards in reaction, actually looking rather delighted himself.

Which is the exact moment a little, blue hand worms itself out of the nephilim's jacket, landing against the man’s cheek, the child clearly protesting not getting enough attention from his favorite person in the room.

Magnus watches as the nephilim reacts by glancing down to immediately give the little warlock in his arms a small, but so very warmly reassuring smile, a smile that only seems to widen further at the happy coo the child promptly makes in return.

It's quite the smile.

And Magnus is just utterly charmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently I won't be able to leave all of these as single-chapter snippets after all... Especially, after all your wonderful comments on this premise in particular (#^^#) But, really, who was I kidding when I said I might not continue these XD *sigh* 
> 
> And I know there is still barely any Malec interaction in this but I simply got lost in telling Magnus' side of this supposed-to-be-a-dystopia-but-somehow-isn't-turning-out-like-one-at-all world.
> 
> Would still love to know what you think :D


	9. Focus (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Jace hadn't just entirely blanked out Magnus' comments about 'pretty boys' and 'Michelangelo in bed' after the memory demon ritual? And what if seeing the High Warlock's rather obvious interest in his parabatai had ended up making _Jace_ jealous for once, taking some of his focus off Clary. And promptly redirecting it towards Alec instead.
> 
> Who would very much like to have it noted that he doesn't appreciate his parabatai butting into his love life. Like, _at all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Michelangelo-in-bed scene and the missing (what-if) scenes in between.

Alec almost wants to sigh, not really sure how to feel about Jace's continued hovering.

Ever since 'The Pretty Boy Incident' - and, yes, that's absolutely what Alec is calling it in his head, capital letters and all - Jace has been practically glued to his side, keeps hovering right beside him, all the while side-eyeing Magnus with an intensity that is almost amusing.

Mostly, because Magnus appears so utterly unconcerned by Jace's rather baleful stare.

Even now, mere minutes after the warlock returned from the ritual room where he showed Clary how to prepare for the summoning, Magnus just keeps looking their way - or rather, _Alec's_ way - cheerfully, calmly, apparently entirely unashamed of being so very blatant about his interest. A fact that by itself already seems to be riling Jace up rather effectively, his glower ever-increasing in intensity.

While Alec just continues to pretend ignorance to it all.

Turns out, personal delight at having someone as pretty as Magnus at least vaguely interested in him aside, Alec still doesn't really know what to _do_ with that.

It's just... He's never flirted with _anyone_. And he's certainly not about to try flirting for the first time in front of his siblings, thank you very much. Not that Jace would give him the chance even if Alec wanted to.

As becomes more than obvious when Magnus turns from where he is standing by his rather fancy-looking drink cart, just a couple of feet away, to ask, "Can I offer you something to drink while we wait?"

The question is phrased to include them all, but Magnus is so clearly looking at Alec as he asks... But he doesn't actually get a chance to reply.

"We're good," Jace immediately returns, tone rather combative, scowl ever-deepening.

Because, why _wouldn't_ he see fit to decline on all of their behalves? _It's not like we are all grown-ass people fully capable of making our own decisions or anything_, Alec thinks sarcastically.

And he honestly doesn't quite get why the warlock's blatant flirting seems to bother his parabatai so much. All Magnus has done is make a few flirtatious comments, nothing that would warrant Jace's current response, even if one were to assume that Alec himself _weren't_ interested at all. Which might, admittedly, not be entirely accurate.

Actually, as much as he'd like to claim otherwise, Alec is fairly certain his earlier reaction to being called pretty boy rather obviously gave away that he himself isn't bothered by the flirting in the least. Quite the opposite, really.

And Jace has a particular liking for seelies anyway, so it's not like he would be bothered by Alec maybe not having entirely succeeded in hiding his own interest in a Downworlder. That just wouldn't make any sense.

Right?

But. Alec also doesn't actually speak up, doesn't contradict him. As sad as it may be, this is also the most attention Jace has given to anything that _doesn't_ directly revolve around his crush for _days_ now. And Alec has missed his parabatai. Missed that unconditional, immovable, immutable closeness of theirs, their focus on each other, something he'd quite simply always taken for granted, just a fact of life, but which seems to have just _disappeared_ ever since Jace first spotted Clary at that club.

_This_ is how he and Alec used to be even less than a week ago. The two of them against the world. Well, the _three_ of them, seeing as Izzy is definitely to be included in that. But, still, his point stands.

The contrast of how it used to be and the so very recent change, of it somehow having turned into _Clary and Jace_ being an inseparable unit instead, Izzy going along with anything they want, and Alec quite simply seeing no choice but to follow behind them as well, if only to clean up after them, despite their rather aggravating dismissal of anything he might have to say about their plans... Well, if you can call 'we'll see what happens when we get there' a _plan_ at all.

Still, he's missed this. Missed their closeness, the knowledge that no matter who _else_ might be in the room, Jace's focus would always and forever be on Alec _first_, everything else second.

So, as exhilarating as it may be to have the attention of someone as dazzlingly bright as Magnus, for now Alec pretends to ignore it all, instead keeping his eyes on the spines of the various tomes in front of him, filling the bookshelves stretching along one of the walls in Magnus' apartment.

And if some of his attention might admittedly be focused elsewhere, a strange sort of hyper-awareness focused on Magnus, keeping Alec constantly aware of every time the warlock so much as _shifts_ where he is now sitting on one of the couches a couple of steps away, something almost like tingles spreading over his skin every time he feels the man's eyes once more settle on him.

Well, then that would be entirely his business, now wouldn’t it.

+++

Magnus keeps an eye on the three Shadowhunters currently milling about his apartment, sticking their noses into every single nook and cranny they can find as they wait for the fourth one to finish drawing the pentagram.

_Such a nosy lot, Shadowhunters._

Well, Magnus also has his study on lockdown, preventing the three of them from coming across any of the _actually_ interesting things he does admittedly like to keep around, so they are welcome to their snooping.

And he probably wouldn't even mind the nosing about in the least, if it were only one _certain_ Shadowhunter doing it.

Magnus lets his eyes drift over to Alexander once more, gaze lingering.

_Magic_, that boy is gorgeous.

Yes, Magnus wouldn't have any problem whatsoever with that particular Shadowhunter spending some time exploring his loft. _My bedroom in particular_, Magnus thinks wickedly, easily hiding his rather salacious grin behind the drink in his hand.

_Although..._

He frowns slightly.

Alexander's earlier reaction to being called 'pretty boy' somehow also just... _bothers_ him. Something about everyone in this group so very naturally assuming that Magnus just _must_ have been talking to the blond Shadowhunter, their honest surprise once they realized that he in fact _wasn't_, and - even with Magnus' finger _pointing straight at him_ \- it having taken this adorable Shadowhunter another couple of seconds to realize that Magnus truly meant _him_...

Something about that just tugs at Magnus' heart.

Because _no one_ should be that surprised at being noticed, much less someone as gorgeous as Alexander.

And, magic, the boy's _smile_ once he had realized that Magnus was truly talking to him. Just one simple compliment - not even a real compliment, more of a coyly teasing nickname than true flattery - and the honest, genuine, _true_ smile it had gotten Magnus, for something so simple... That reaction also makes it rather clear exactly _how_ accustomed Alexander apparently is to being complimented. Namely, not at all.

Turns out, nephilim really are complete nitwits if not one Shadowhunter at that entire Institute has noticed just how _gorgeous_ this man is. Not that the Clave's collective idiocy is in any way news to Magnus, but still.

He once more lets his eyes drift over to where the two parabatai are currently standing in front of one of his bookshelves, Alexander appearing to read the titles on the spines. Magnus easily lets his eyes drag over him, all the while cheerfully ignoring the way he can see the parabatai's eyes narrowing at him once he notices him staring. Again.

But Magnus honestly couldn't care less about the other one.

Because Alexander very clearly didn't have any problem _whatsoever_ with having Magnus' attention on him earlier, quite to the contrary. And _his_ is the only opinion that counts.

He feels his lips quirk up in a slight smirk.

If a simple flirtatious comments gets him a smile like _that_, well, then Magnus sees absolutely no problem with maybe kicking his flirting up a notch - or ten - at the next opportunity that might present itself.

And if this little game of harmless flirting also helps to distract Magnus from the grief and regret and anger, the soul-deep devastation, the inescapable _pain_ pulling at him, threatening to take the very breath out of his lungs whenever he lets his mind drift for so much as an instant, whenever he thinks of earlier, of bodies strewn across his living room floor, of so many friends lost.

Well, Magnus doesn't think anyone could possibly blame him for welcoming any sort of distraction right now.

Yes, for now he'd much rather think about that smile, maybe even see whether he might be able to elicit a similar response from this adorable Shadowhunter again. Just to help lift his own spirits the slightest bit, to help him keep his mind off the bodies his magic had so very carefully set into one of the other rooms as he relocated his apartment, to help him gather his resolve before he'll have to once more step into his role of the High Warlock, to help him find the strength to be the one for friends and families of the deceased to lean on in their grief. Before the funerals, before the many burial rituals he'll have to perform. Before Magnus will once more have to say his goodbyes to some of his own, to friends and allies and comrades, some of whom he's known for decades, some of whom he himself helped _raise_, lost to yet another attack of the Circle, lives claimed in the name of one man's zealous image of a perfect world

Magnus blinks, breathes out, forcefully drags his mind away from those thoughts, makes himself focus on the here and now instead, his eyes almost automatically drifting over to where the two parabatai are still standing.

So, yes, a little distraction would most certainly be welcome.

Not that there could possibly be any _other_ reason whatsoever why Magnus would quite like to see that gorgeous boy look at him again like _that_, why he'd really quite like another one of those beautiful, genuine, beatific smiles directed at himself.

+++

"The last person I knew who could draw this well was _Michelangelo_," Magnus intones, and Alec can see something almost impish enter the warlock's expression as he then adds on, "Who was _excellent_ in bed, I might add."

And as he says that last bit, Magnus more than obviously leans forward, blatantly focuses on Alec. Like... like he is personally - and very specifically - telling _him_. Like the others aren't even there, or just utterly irrelevant in his eyes.

_Despite_ Izzy standing on Magnus' other side, already giggling at the comment and with that appreciative glint in her eyes that she always gets around particularly attractive Downworlders. _Despite_ Magnus having to actually lean around Clary, who - according to his parabatai - is supposedly utterly irresistible. _Despite_ Jace - the person everyone always focuses on _first_ \- standing right next to Alec.

Magnus is flirting. And he is still only flirting with _Alec_.

Well, at least this time, Alec is also better prepared - for the surprise, the delight, the giddy excitement that immediately flashes through him at yet another so very blatantly flirtatious comment directed at _him_ \- and thus when Jace flips around to again stare at him incredulously, this time looking almost _offended_ for some reason, Alec's face is giving nothing away as he just shrugs once more.

Again pretending not to know what's going on.

Admittedly, he's not sure just how well he actually manages to hide that thrill that runs through once more. Because even as he blinks cluelessly at Jace, from the corner of his eye he can also see Magnus' lips quirking up the slightest bit further, like the warlock might be congratulating himself for a job well done.

And, just _why_ is it so damn hard to keep his attention _off_ this man? Why is it that Alec simply can't help but watch as Magnus starts sauntering around the pentagram to make sure Clary didn't mess up anywhere, expression cheerful, hips swaying slightly, hands gesturing fluidly as he explains what exactly will be involved in the summoning.

Alec quite simply can't help but let his eyes linger on him.

Then, Jace is suddenly leaning in to whisper rather aggressively, "What is _with_ this guy?"

It pulls his focus rather effectively away from Magnus, Alec now blinking at Jace, honestly surprised at his parabatai's vehemence. Who however doesn't seem to even have noticed Alec's own distraction, seeing as Jace isn't actually looking at him but seems rather preoccupied with scowling darkly after Magnus.

_Although_... Alec feels a slight frown forming on his own face now, feels that giddy exhilaration that had still been running through him from Magnus' last comment disappear once more, as he instead remains focused on his parabatai now, feels his eyes narrowing slightly. Because for some reason that question is what finally does end up actually _bothering _him.

Not only because of Jace's apparent incredulity at Magnus' behavior, but also because his parabatai sounds almost amused as he says it. Like the mere idea of someone flirting with Alec is _amusing_ to him.

He feels his frown deepen.

In all honesty, it's actually rather... disheartening to see just how surprised everyone seems to be reacting to the possibility that someone might possibly be interested in _Alec_ for once. Because, well, Izzy is used to it, forever garnering appreciative glances anywhere they go. As is Jace, who has all the magnetism of the damn sun itself, always the center of attention.

While Alec tends to stick to the background.

But that has always been a choice on his part. Because his interest lies elsewhere, because he decided early on that he would put all that he is into being the best Shadowhunter he could be, because he knows that he simply wouldn't be interested in the Shadowhunters who _would_ flirt with him, if only due to them quite simply being the wrong gender.

Still, it had been a _deliberate choice_ on Alec's part to sideline his personal life.

So, for his siblings to react like this, Izzy grinning at him like she honestly thinks Alec ought to be _congratulated_ just for someone thinking he is attractive, while Jace continues to scowl in offense for the same reason.

Well, maybe 'disheartening' isn't quite the right word. 'Aggravating' actually seems much more fitting.

Add to that his parabatai's apparent _amusement_ on top of that...

After _years_ of struggling with trying to figure out his feelings for Jace, struggling with the knowledge that he does find his parabatai attractive but forever uncertain whether it's in a purely aesthetic sense or whether his feelings might be something _more_. Years of trying to figure out where the line between his attraction and their soul bond is, trying to make sense of that instant jealousy that runs through him every time he sees Jace so much as looking at anyone else, years of trying to figure out whether his jealousy stems from Alec having actual feelings for him or whether it's just because someone is taking his parabatai's attention away from him. After years of struggling with his own maybe-or-maybe-not attraction to his parabatai, to now have Jace act as though the mere idea that someone might want to flirt with Alec is either something to be _suspicious_ about or to be _laughed_ at.

_Despite_ _Magnus' rather obvious interest in me quite clearly proving otherwise._

Yeah, something about his parabatai's reaction to all of this is definitely pissing Alec off.

He feels his eyes narrow further, brows drawing down into an actual scowl, as he decides to simply ignore Jace's almost-but-not-quite-rhetorical question for now. Instead, simply moving past his parabatai to take a spot at one of the five points of the pentagram as directed, ignores his siblings' somewhat baffled silence as they watch him, clearly confused by his non-reaction, but after a couple of moments they finally also move to follow his example, taking up their positions around the drawing.

And maybe it's his frustration at the entire situation, his anger at Jace for seeing no problem with running blindly, mindlessly, _thoughtlessly_ after a pretty face himself, but getting _offended _when someone dares to so much as smile at Alec.

Or maybe it's simply that Alec honestly can't be bothered to hide just how nice it is to have someone so clearly focused on _him_, to flirt with _him_, to like _him_ for once.

Or maybe it's just because Magnus really is rather breathtakingly pretty.

Either way, when the warlock finally reaches out, holding out his hand for him to take as required for the summoning ritual, Alec doesn't even hesitate to reach out as well.

_Though, kudos to Magnus for managing to turn even the simple action of holding out his hand into something that most _certainly _looks flirtatious. _

Honestly, just _how_?

Still, Alec doesn't hesitate to reach out in turn, meets the man's eyes as he easily slides his hand into Magnus', letting his fingers curl firmly around the warlock's, can't help but marvel slightly at how well their hands seem to simply fit together, at the feeling of warm skin against his.

He also rather purposely ignores Izzy's staring at him from Magnus' left, looking honestly surprised, and he really can't be bothered to so much as glance at his parabatai on his other side right now.

Well, he also doesn't quite have the confidence to hold Magnus' gaze for long, glancing away after a mere few seconds of their eyes meeting, fighting to suppress the slight blush he can feel heating the skin of his neck, instead does his best to casually face forward as though concentrating on the pentagram in front of them.

Not that he actually sees much of the drawing, quite simply doesn't have the focus to spare.

Because at this point, Alec might even have been cursing his own lack of confidence that made him glance away at all, might have felt frustrated at his own uncertainty, his awkwardness, his utter unfamiliarity with this sort of thing. He might have. If it weren't for the smile he can see spreading over Magnus' face from the corner of his eye, something bright and delighted and warmly surprised in the warlock's expression as Magnus finally just moves to curl his fingers ever-so-slightly further around Alec's own.

And so what if _this time_ Alec doesn't actually try all that hard to suppress the slight, answering smile tugging at his own lips in reaction. So what if he feels perfectly comfortable holding hands with this pretty pretty warlock. So what if he is finding it a little difficult to focus on anything besides the feeling of fingers firmly curled around his, the warm metal of Magnus' rings pressing into his skin.

So what?

Alec would very much like to reiterate that _none_ of this is anyone's business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a slight shift of canon events and there will also be no 'big' twist in this later on. Instead, I'm planning to keep everything and everyone perfectly canon and only shift the dynamics between Alec and Jace the slightest bit, and then lean back and watch things cheerfully snowball from there :)
> 
> Also, as a sidenote, I hated how canon had so many warlocks die at the loft just so that the Shadowhunters could come in and save the day, only for everyone to just... forget (?!) about it afterwards. So, I'm going to use this fic to deal with that particular plot hole as well.
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	10. Priorities (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Magnus had decided not to go to that meeting at the rave? What if he decided that Camille’s necklace isn’t worth the trouble of getting involved with Shadowhunter business? The ripple effects of that decision go beyond anything anyone could have possibly anticipated. (What-if canon twist)

“Magnus, please don’t go to that meeting at the rave. It’s too risky,” Elias pleads with him.

And Magnus sighs, of course fully aware that Elias is right, as much as the promise of getting back the necklace he once gave to Camille tempts him to go anyway.

Another glance at Elias' worried eyes and Magnus finally gives in with another sigh, “Alright. I won’t go.” A pause, a teasing smile as he reaches up to touch the side of Elias' face. "Now, please stop worrying. You're giving yourself crowfeet."

“You really won't go?” Elias asks, now sounding honestly surprised, most likely at how easily he got him to agree.

Magnus just shrugs fluidly, “You’re right, the message _was_ rather sketchy and it is quite likely some sort of setup. It's just not worth the risk.” He quirks a smile at Elias’ rather obvious relief. “And I honestly don’t much feel like dealing with Shadowhunters today anyway.”

+++

_“Jace, he isn’t coming,” Alec sighs exasperatedly, more than ready to return to the Institute at this point. _

_They’ve been lurking around the rave for almost two hours now, waiting for Magnus Bane to show up. At this point, it’s rather clear that whatever message Jace decided to send the warlock, it didn’t have the intended effect of luring Magnus Bane to meet them here. __A fact which - wasted evening or not - Alec is actually rather grateful for. If only because _this way_ he won't have to defend commissioning a warlock's services on Clary's behalf without approval in front of the Clave._

_His parabatai is frowning now, clearly in reaction to Alec's statement. But then Jace finally sighs, throws a last look around and finally turns to the girl at his side, “Alec is right, Clary. He clearly isn’t coming.”_

_Her mouth immediately pulls down. “But what about my memories?” she asks plaintively, eyes large and sad as she blinks up at Jace. _

_Alec barely keeps himself from scoffing out loud at the sight. But, _excuse him_. He has three younger siblings, he knows puppy-dog eyes when he sees them. And Clary's have absolutely nothing on Max’s. Or Izzy's for that matter._

_“We’ll find another way. I promise,” Jace is however already assuring her earnestly. _

_And Alec just wants to sigh. He’d wish someone here would remember that his world does _not_ in fact revolve around one Clary Fray, that he does have other things to take care of aside from this one girl's personal problems._

_Like, you know, running an entire Institute in his parents’ absence. Or like, going on missions to keep the city free of demons. Or like, dealing with the diplomatic mess resulting from the girl’s chatty mundane friend having been abducted by vampires just yesterday, something which the girl and his siblings already seem to have forgotten about. You know, things like his actual _job_._

_Really, sometimes Alec thinks it must be so _nice_ to live in his siblings' world. A world without negative consequences, a world where 'out of sight, out of mind' actually applies, where 'having good intentions' apparently makes up for everything you might screw up along the way._

Yes, it really must be nice to live in such a wonderful, fantastical world.

+++

Magnus doesn't react as he feels another blow land against the wards around his apartment.

His magic is already thrumming viciously, sparking a malignant blood-red between his fingertips, predatory anticipation curling through him, as he waits for the last of his ducklings to leave the lair through the portal he made for them the moment he felt the first blow glance off his wards.

Some of them protest, of course. Perfectly willing to join him in fighting off the attackers.

But tearing apart those who are stupid enough to go after him and his will be much easier if Magnus doesn’t have to worry about allies in the mix, doesn’t have to watch his powers or how vicious is spells get lest he hurt anyone on his side. Fighting by himself, being able to entirely let loose, will be much more effective, not to even mention much more viciously satisfying.

Thankfully, as their High Warlock – and seeing as it is in fact _his_ apartment that is currently being attacked – he does have the authority to simply send them away, even if their departure is marked with a couple of scowls and discontent grumbling about them wanting a piece of the Circle as well. If anything, Magnus finds it rather cute how personally offended they all seem to be at someone daring to attack their High Warlock.

And it isn't until the portal finally closes behind Elias - who throws him a final glance before he actually steps through the gateway, the last of his flock to leave - that Magnus lets a rather dark, bloodthirsty grin spread over his face.

All in all, it took barely four minutes since he felt the first blow against his wards to evacuate the lair. And now, Magnus is the only one left.

No allies to take care of, no ducklings to protect. Only him, his magic, and those stupid enough to dare actually attacking him.

Because the Circle is usually smarter than attacking those of Magnus’ age and power outright, knowing full-well that the more powerful warlocks are simply _beyond_ whatever one Shadowhunter - or ten, or twenty, or even _fifty_ \- might be able to throw at them. No, the Circle much prefers its cowardly ways, taking out weaker warlocks individually, picking them off one by one and forever avoiding those too powerful for them to have a chance against.

Magnus closes his eyes, breathes in deep, lets his magic coil past its usual restraints, relinquishes some of that constant control he keeps on his powers. It’s like pure warmth flooding his entire being.

He so rarely gets to let loose.

When he opens his eyes again, he knows his warlock mark is on full display, knows the gold of his cat-eyes will be glowing with pure power, as he lets his wrath gain physical form in his magic gathering around him.

If this attack had happened at any other time, he likely wouldn't even feel anywhere near as bloodthirsty as he does right now. But. It's quite simply far too much of a coincidence for this attack to happen right when Magnus had almost been lured away by the promise of potentially regaining something of true value to him, almost left his flock behind to reclaim something he gave away so long ago. It seems like that meeting really was a setup, a trap, even though not aimed at Magnus personally.

_How typical of the Circle to try and draw me away in order to then go after those under my protection._

He feels his lips curl.

_Spineless, degenerate, repugnant _cowards_, the lot of them._

His magic coils in bloodthirsty anticipation, tendrils twining around his fingers, glowing darkly, a brilliant blood-red, curling up his arms, sparking with power, illuminating the dark loft around him as he steps towards the door, steps towards where the attackers are still doing their best to bring down his wards.

And just for a second he even entertains the idea of opening a gateway, of dragging them collectively down to Edom, of giving his father a few nephilim to play with, to make them _pay_ for trying to go after those under his protection.

On the other hand, Magnus would quite like to use the lot of them as a rather clear, _unmistakable_ warning to anyone who might ever consider going after _his_ again. So, he kind of still needs the bodies here up on earth.

And as he readies his magic for the upcoming fight, he doesn't even have to check the mirror to know that the smile curling at the edges of his lips has far too many teeth to be called anything even remotely friendly.

Because, either way, there will be no Circle members returning to whatever hole Valentine is hiding out in tonight.

Magnus has no mercy for those who try to go after anyone under his protection.

+++

_Alec glances up from the paperwork on the desk in front of him when the door to his office opens without so much as a knock._

_Jace comes striding in, scowl on his face, barely waiting until he has crossed the threshold before he is asserting, “You can’t just take the portal shard away from Clary.”_

_Izzy, following just a step behind Jace, is nodding in agreement. “It was her mother’s, Alec,” she adds on, her tone reprimanding, almost scolding._

Ah, seems like we are about to have another discussion about 'doing the right thing' and how I entirely missed the mark and how _dare I_ interfere with Clary's rampage through our city.

_Alec honestly doesn’t know whether to sigh or to gnash his teeth in anger at this entire situation. How come his siblings don’t even ask him for his reasons? Not a single question, jumping right into flinging around accusations. Since when do they think themselves forever morally superior to him? For no other reason than because one Clary Fray _said so_._

_However, Izzy's support only seems to embolden Jace as he continues, “You can’t just keep it from her. Not if it might help her find her mother.”_

_Alec almost rolls his eyes in exasperation at that. Because, just half an hour ago, Jace was reprimanding Alec for apparently putting too much pressure on Clary when he had been trying to help her glean any sort of useful information from what she saw through the shard. And now, his parabatai is reprimanding him for _not_ doing that exact thing. Seriously, this girl has his parabatai so twisted around her finger, Jace clearly can't even see straight anymore._

_Which however isn't any sort of excuse for Izzy. Because she wasn’t even _there _when Alec took the shard for safekeeping. How come she already has an opinion on the matter without even talking to him? _

_So, Alec ignores her for now. _

_"Jace," he says instead, unable to entirely hide his frustration at once more being lectured about ‘doing the right thing’, never mind that he is in fact trying to protect everyone, while ‘the right thing’ seems to have a rather suspicious tendency for perfectly coinciding with one Clary Fray’s personal goals. "Would you _think_ for a second. Valentine has already used the shard to make contact with Clary once, meaning that everything she sees is probably tainted and quite likely a trap _designed _by him." __He can already see the mulish tilt pulling at Jace's mouth, clearly unwilling to concede the point. So, Alec just continues, "I quite simply don't trust her not to go running off after whatever 'hint' Valentine might deign to show her, once more dragging all of us along as well." He focuses on both his siblings, makes sure he has their attention. "We need to lay low for a while. The Clave is only one unapproved mission away from taking control of the Institute away from the Lightwood family.”_

_That clearly brings his siblings up short, both of them now blinking at him, __wide-eyed, clearly surprised, as though them cheerfully running around on self-assigned missions as they please, disregarding Clave directives whenever it suits them, couldn't _possibly _have had any sort of consequences in their minds. _

Yes, such a wonderfully fantastical world the two of them are living in._  
_

_“What?” Jace asks._

_Alec actually sighs this time. “Mom wrote. Apparently, word of the recent happenings here has reached Alicante and they already aren't really happy with us. Add to that all those bodies of Circle members that were found by the docks without any clue just who might have taken them out? The Clave is getting nervous about what’s happening in New York and they will use any excuse they can to insert themselves, even more so if they can find a legitimate reason to take over the Institute."_

_"You really think so?" Izzy asks, clearly still surprised.  
_

_He nods, their reactions giving him hope that they might actually _listen_ to him for once. "Mom and Dad decided to stay in Alicante for now, hoping to mitigate the damage from their end. But apparently, the Clave has been discussing sending an official envoy to join us here for a while now, originally as additional manpower to help us handle the threat of Valentine who seems to be focusing a lot of his efforts on New York recently. But there is no way they won’t try to take actual control of the Institute instead if we give them enough of a reason and they can legitimately do so without pissing off the other old Shadowhunter families.”_

_Jace is honestly frowning now, clearly caught between surprise and anger at the Clave so much as considering such a slight against their family. "Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah," Alec shrugs, even though he feels anything but nonchalant about this topic. “The only reason they haven’t sent anyone to take over is because the rave never made it onto the logs. _Officially_, the only thing we’ve done against Clave directives so far, is bringing two mundanes into the Institute, one of whom turned out to be a nephilim anyway. Then the situation with the Dumort Clan, but I was able to argue that it was an emergency mission and that we didn't have the time to go through official channels to get approval. But if we had actually gone through with commissioning a warlock's services on Clary's behalf, that would have been the third strike and our family might have lost control of the Institute entirely."_

_"Well, damn," Izzy asserts emphatically. _

Indeed_, Alec thinks sarcastically._

_There are several moments of silence. And Alec truly hopes they get now why he took the shard away from the girl who has already proven herself absolutely unwilling to so much as consider other people's concerns, as long as it gets her closer to her goal. _

_"You look tired, Alec," Izzy finally speaks up again and there is suddenly something honestly worried in her eyes as she watches him. _

_Jace glances at her quickly and then back to focus on Alec, a somewhat worried frown forming on his face as well._

_Alec just blows out a breath, glad they are not trying to revisit the topic of the portal shard. "I'll be fine. It's just been a little much recently." He sighs, then focuses on Jace. "Just, please, try to make Clary see reason from time to time. You can't just keep rushing in without any clue as to what you are doing."_

_"But her mom..." Jace starts hesitantly, clearly uncertain of his argument at this point._

_Alec sighs, "I get that she is searching for her mother." He pauses, then adds on honestly, "And I even respect her wanting to protect her family. All I'm asking is that the two of you try to keep a low profile, maybe even listen to my suggestions from time to time on how to minimize the damage, and don't just rush in however you please and without any thought to the consequences and then leave _me_ to clean it up on top of everything else."_

_That last part comes out a little harsher than he intended, but going by the honestly sheepish expression on Jace's face, it might have been exactly what his parabatai needed to hear._

+++

"Luke, I know you try to avoid conflict as much as you can," Magnus says with a raised eyebrow, the very picture of nonchalance as he sprinkles the required amount of lavender root into the cauldron in front of him, despite the topic having him everything but. "But your alpha truly isn't taking care of the pack as he should."

"I know, Magnus, I know," the former Shadowhunter, now second-in-command of New York’s strongest werewolf pack sighs where he is watching Magnus brew yet another potion for one of his pack members to help speed up their healing.

The silence hanging in the air between them for several moments is heavy, full of words unsaid.

"Just," Magnus finally continues carefully. "In case you decide to do something about it, let me know if you might need help, even if it's just as standby to patch you up afterwards." He waits until Luke meets his eyes. "Alright?"

"Alright," Luke sighs. A pause. "Thank you, old friend."

Magnus smiles. "Don't thank me. I'm just getting sick of always having to skip randomly across town in order to patch up the wolves your alpha so likes to punish for 'insubordination'." He makes sure to say it humorously, no matter how serious he is about the topic.

Luke is frowning now, rather heavily so. Magnus just focuses back on the potion, calmly waiting him out.

He learned long ago that it is never a good idea to actually fix other people's problems. It's far better to simply make sure they have the best possible odds for succeeding at fixing their problems themselves, maybe giving the last push and - most importantly - being there to help with the aftermath if need be.

It’s a couple of minutes before Luke finally looks up again, focuses on Magnus with sudden determination in his eyes. "About that standby," he starts.

Magnus raises an eyebrow in question.

"You available right now?"

Magnus grins.

+++

_"I need to go back to my place to find my mother's tarot cards! I think the Mortal Cup might be amongst them," Clary bursts into his office, Jace on her heel._

_Alec pauses, focuses on her intently. _

_Jace is actually the one who elaborates. “Clary thinks her mother hid the Cup in a drawing and even showed her the cards on purpose. Clary just didn’t know what she was looking at until now.”_

_Alec’s mind is already running through scenarios and probabilities and arguments for how best to argue the necessity of this mission in front of the Clave. He turns towards Clary, “How sure are you?" he asks._

_"What do you mean, 'how sure'?" she exclaims impatiently. "I need to find my mother's cards!"_

_And Alec barely keeps from rolling his eyes in exasperation. Why can't this girl just answer someone's questions like a normal person? _ _By the angel, he's made it through his siblings' puberty but he's fairly certain neither of them was ever near as melodramatic or self-absorbed as this particular girl._

+++

Magnus rushes through his apartment, doesn’t really pay any attention to Alaric sitting vigil next to his new alpha on the couch, or to Maia pacing rather restlessly by the window, or to Gretel standing stock-still by the table, scowling darkly into the cauldron where Magnus is preparing the potion they'll need to heal Luke. All three of them clearly have their attention is split between Luke groaning on the couch and Magnus rushing around gathering ingredients and adding them to the bubbling concoction as needed.

And usually, he'd do his best to reassure them, but he honestly can’t spare them any focus right now.

Thankfully, Luke gave him enough warning about his intention to challenge his alpha that Magnus had the time to gather all the ingredients he needs for this potion beforehand and it's now just a question of finishing it as quickly as possible.

Luke might have come out the victor from that fight, but it still took a lot out of him, as evidenced by his numerous wounds. And alpha-inflicted wounds are always the most difficult to heal.

Although, going by the collection of werewolves currently milling around his loft, clearly worried about their new alpha, and also the reaction he observed from the rest of the pack, it seems that no one is particularly sad about the change in leadership.

Magnus is glad. Luke will make an excellent alpha.

Not to even mention that peace within their city’s strongest werewolf pack also means a more peaceful Downworld as a whole, which means less strife between the various factions. Which can only ever be a good thing in the time of the Circle still doing its best to pick them off one by one.

+++

_"The cards aren't here," Clary says. "Someone must have taken them." There is something forlorn in her voice and Jace is immediately reaching out to comfort her. _

_For once, Alec actually feels for her, can imagine how disappointing it must be for her to think she might have true leverage to get her mother back, only to then find said leverage gone. Still, his mind is already skipping ahead to what they need to do next. Because the _other_ implications of the cards having disappeared are even worse. _

_He briefly looks around, eyes briefly landing on Izzy who looks rather fascinated by what she's seeing, forever enamored with the mundane world. Then, Alec once more glances over to where Jace is still busy consoling Clary. _

_Because Alec knows that what he has to do next and he also knows it will have Clary once more railing against the unfairness of her life and quite likely also have his siblings up in arms, happy to take the girl's side once more._

_But. _

_Alec knew what he was going to do next before they came here, has already run through the various scenarios of how to handle the situation if they had found the Cup. _ _And even more so, if they didn't. _

_Idris needs to be informed. Because if the Mortal Cup is really amongst those cards, and now the cards are gone... There aren’t many places where they might have ended up._

_"If Valentine has the Cup, then we need to tell the Clave," Alec finally asserts calmly. He sees Izzy glance up immediately, something unhappy in her expression but the look in her eyes also telling him that she recognizes his tone of voice, the tone he uses when he takes charge, when he leads a mission, when he takes on the role of Head of the Institute in their parents' absence. The tone voice when he has reached a conclusion, made up his mind, immovable in his conviction.  
_

_"No, you can't!" Clary is already exclaiming. "I need to find my mother first! I need the Cup to get my mother back.”_

_To Alec’s relief, for once neither of his siblings actually speak up to side with her. It wouldn't change his mind but it still makes his life quite a bit easier not to have to argue against them as well. Maybe for once they actually do get the implications, realize how far beyond their own agenda this situation might spread if they don’t get in front of it right away. Or maybe they just know him well enough to realize that there is no way they'll be able to move him, no matter what they say._

_Either way, their lack of protest leaves Alec free to solely focus on Clary, as he honestly tries to explain the situation to her from his standpoint. "If Valentine has the Cup, then he might be creating an army of Shadowhunters only loyal to him _right now._ If that's the case, then it might put the balance of the entire Shadowworld at risk. It might even mean _war_.” Because that's the thing. No matter how much he might be able to sympathize with Clary doing everything to get her family back, with the Cup now possibly in Valentine's hands, this simply goes beyond just one person. “So, we need to tell the Clave and maybe they can work on trying to keep the peace."_

_He watches rather exasperatedly as his explanation only results in her expression turning mulish, an almost desperate light in her eyes and clearly not seeing what he just said as enough of a reason to give up on the Mortal Cup. _

_Alec wonders whether she is even aware of how incredibly, aggravatingly selfish it is of her to demand they put her personal agenda above the lives of everyone in the Shadowworld. Or whether she just doesn't care. _

_But, either way, the last time Valentine got out of control and the Clave didn't react quickly enough, the Downworld almost went to war with the Shadowhunters in retaliation. They barely managed to avoid an active conflict then, by quickly denouncing the Circle, but even now it is a fragile balance considering that Valentine is still very much out there and still hunting Downworlders as he pleases. _

_Alec is simply not risking an actual _war_ for one Clary Fray._

_To her right, Jace is watching them, the desire to speak up on Clary's behalf obvious in his expression. But when Alec looks over to meet his eyes, stance firm, conviction in his eyes, his parabatai finally just bows his head._

_Because as much as they might like to argue otherwise, his siblings apparently get that Alec is actually _right_ about this._

_..._

Or, just as likely, they are simply scheming how to get around me instead,_ Alec can't help but think sardonically. _Certainly wouldn't be the first time._  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is kind of the counterpart to my One Step Ahead fic, with malec meeting later than in canon instead of earlier, although it'll likely turn out just as fluffy once they actually meet.
> 
> The thought of what things might have been like if they only met in season 2 has been bouncing around my head for a while now, especially if Alec had already worked through most of his issues with himself and his family on his own by that point, so he'd get to meet Magnus on much more equal footing and without the lot of them needing to constantly barge in on Magnus demanding he fix all their problems :)
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	11. Priorities (part 2)

Magnus lets his eyes drift across the New York City skyline, drink in hand, taking a few moments to enjoy the quiet solitude currently surrounding him as he gazes over the view from his new balcony.

After the attack on the lair, he didn't really have a choice but to move house, what with Valentine and his little club of genocidal maniacs clearly having found him. Not that he regrets leaving that particular spot behind. As much as that warehouse might have been a good hideout – somewhere Valentine hadn't so much as thought to look for him for _years_ \- but the doom and gloom of the abandoned industrial complex still hadn't really been Magnus style at all.

So, Magnus had decided to just relocate his apartment via the ley lines to one of the other lots he owns in Brooklyn, a simple if ridiculously draining spell that mainly just requires some focus and a whole lot of power.

Which brings him here, admiring the view of New York at night. He'd almost forgotten how much he has always liked this particular location, just the view alone making the move absolutely worth it.

He already replenished most of his magical reserves after the rather taxing relocation spell earlier, and now he is using his evening to just relax a little. The sun has already set and New York is coming alight as countless lights flicker into existence all around the city, beautifully aglow against the dark night sky stretching out above.

Magnus lets his eyes drift across the illuminated city, feeling a small smile tilt his lips at the tranquil, almost serene feeling of the scene in front of him.

He loves moments like these. These pockets of peace within the usual hustle and bustle of life, just a few moments to breathe, to pause, to reflect, to let his mind drift. A few moments to just _be_, and love life as it is.

_Now, if only I had someone to share this with._

Magnus blinks, a little taken off guard by that thought, mouth pulling down a little.

It’s been a long time since he’s had someone in his life, since he let anyone close enough he’d even _want_ to share this sort of thing with. And he _knows_ why he chose to keep himself apart from others, knows why he built that wall around himself so many years ago, remembers why he chose to shut his heart to the world, remembers the last time he let someone in, remembers the heartbreak, the literal decades it took him to piece himself and the shattered pieces of his tattered heart back together.

He knows.

But in moments like these, when he teeters at the edge between solitude and loneliness, he can’t help but wonder whether it’s actually worth it.

Magnus sighs slightly, lifting his glass for another sip of his drink as his mind wanders.

He knows better these days than to go looking for companionship just because he’s lonely, knows that _being with someone_ doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be any less _alone_. He learned that lesson rather painfully.

And he swore to himself that _this time_, he will wait. Wait until he finds someone he truly _wants_, someone who is worth it, someone he simply cannot be without. And once he finds that someone Magnus will hold on with everything in him, with everything he is. And until then, he will wait.

_I've made it for about one hundred and fifty years on my own. What’s another century or two at this point?_

Magnus feels a slightly sardonic smile tilt his lips even as he finally turns his focus back on the illuminated city, twinkling with countless lights in front of him, as he deliberately shakes off those thoughts, determined to use whatever remains of his evening to relax.

His long life has certainly taught him to enjoy whatever moments of peace you can find, because the next catastrophe is sure to be waiting just around the corner.

And as if to prove him right, the tranquil silence around him is promptly disrupted by sudden, rather incessant knocking coming from the door to his loft.

Magnus blinks. And then just heaves a sigh, quirking a smile, caught between aggrieved and amused, even as he moves to leisurely make his way over to the entranceway of his loft. It really wouldn't be a normal day without at least one of his ducklings showing up to ask for his help with something.

As soon as he reaches the entranceway, he reaches out to swing his door open with a flourish. And the smile on his face at finding Raphael - with company - standing on the other side is immediate.

"Hello, my dear boy," he greets brightly, honestly happy to see Raphael. "What a lovely surprise to see you."

Raphael nods in greeting, facial expression as stoically broody as ever. “Hello, Magnus.”

Then, there is silence.

Magnus ticks up an eyebrow expectantly, for now pretending to ignore the jittery looking teenager hovering half a step behind Raphael and twitching in obvious anxiety.

Finally, Raphael sighs and deigns to elaborate, "Magnus, this is Simon. Camille bit him. Against his will. And then, the idiot returned to Dumort and she actually got him to feed on her."

Magnus blinks at that rather succinct summary. _Always such a charmer, my little vampire._

"Ah." He feels his mouth pull down in a frown of sympathy as he focuses on the kid, who only gives a nervous smile and an awkward wave in return. "That sounds like her."

"Hn," Raphael agrees, face as stoic as always.

"Well, come in, come in," Magnus invites them, keeps his voice cheerful despite how serious this situation is. "No use in standing around outside."

He ignores Raphael’s aggrieved sigh – either at Magnus’ general cheer or at him making it sound like it was their choice to remain standing in his entranceway and not Magnus blocking their way into the loft – even as the two vampires follow him inside.

As soon as they reach the living room, he waves at the vampires - well, one vampire and one vampire-to-be - to take a seat on the couches, even as he steps over to his drink cart to prepare himself another glass.

"Anything to drink?" he asks brightly, already waving a glass with Raphael's favorite blood type into existence on the coffee table in front of him, but hesitates what to put in front of the kid. “Water? Blood?” He pauses briefly, can’t help but add on, “A juice box?”

But the kid doesn’t actually react to the quip, and is instead just staring at the glass in front of Raphael with wide eyes - whether by the casual display of magic or whether by the obvious contents of the glass, Magnus can't quite tell.

"You-? But-" More wide-eyed surprise. "But _how_?" he points a finger at the glass, expression almost offended, something amusingly accusing in his voice, like the glass itself somehow betrayed him by entirely ignoring the laws of physics or reality.

"Magic, my dear," Magnus supplies brightly, like that explains everything. Which in his mind, it certainly does. "You know, since I _am_ a warlock."

There is a pause.

Then, the kid heaves a deep sigh, face the picture of almost comical resignation. "Magic," he mumbles in return. "Right. Because, why _wouldn't_ there be a couple of Harry Potters skulking about in the shadows of the night as well. Of course. Makes total sense. Silly of me to assume otherwise."

Magnus can't help but grin slightly.

_Aw, this kid is just precious._

And also clearly entirely unfamiliar with the Shadowworld.

Magnus breathes in, makes them get to the actual topic.

"I take it you haven't fully turned yet? Still a fledgling?" he asks, makes sure to keep his voice calm and generally cheerful, not wanting to scare the kid off.

Who is now looking at him in utter confusion, clearly not getting the question, before he just glances over at Raphael with big eyes, nearly-visible question marks hovering above his head. Like he just assumes the other vampire has all the answers.

_How adorable_.

Raphael actually deigns to nod at him in confirmation and Simon promptly turns back towards Magnus. "Yeah," he confirms. "Still a... fledgling?"

"Hm," Magnus hums, watching Raphael expectantly. Who is looking perfectly exasperated at this point. But Magnus knows full-well just how absolutely invested he is in taking care of fledgling vampires, forever trying to make their transition smoother than the hell he himself had gone through.

There is a reason why the Dumort Clan is as large as it is. And it's most certainly not because Camille is the warm and fuzzy type. No, most of the members stay because of Raphael, the second in command, the real leader of their clan, the one who - despite all outwards appearances - truly _cares_.

It takes another couple of seconds before Raphael finally deigns to reply to Magnus' unspoken question of why he decided to bring a fledgling vampire specifically to him instead of keeping him with the clan to teach him.

"He has already proven to have no impulse control, no common sense, and no survival instincts whatsoever," the vampire says, voice bland, easily ignoring the rather offended 'Hey!' from Simon. "I couldn't leave him there, under Camille's tutelage."

Magnus nods, knowing what Raphael isn't saying. Because Camille would only teach Simon whatever suits _her_ best for him to know, all the while extolling the wonder of vampire existence, not bothering to give the other side of the story at all. And Raphael is also self-aware enough to know that he himself would be the exact opposite, over-emphasizing the darker sides of living as a vampire. Because as much as he might have gotten used to being a vampire these days, Raphael still hasn't been able to fully reconcile his beliefs with his undead existence, the loss of his family he had to go through.

And it seems, his next choice had been Magnus. It warms something in him to know that Raphael had chosen to bring Simon specifically to him, trusting Magnus to give the fledgling vampire the full picture. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the _wondrously beautiful_ of immortal life.

It's a job Magnus is all too willing to take on.

+++

_Alec glances around himself absently. Sure, it's been a while since he last came to Idris, but nothing about Alicante ever really changes, no matter how long he’s been gone._

_Of course, usually when he comes to Alicante he also has company, either Jace or Izzy or both walking right beside him. _

_But not this time. This time, they stayed behind._

_Although, to his utter relief, it’s not because they decided to stay behind to show their disapproval of his decision to inform the Clave of the recent developments with the Cup. No, his siblings actually wanted to come._

_It seems that something about the past two days - whether it's because Alec fully laid out his reasoning for this particular decision or whether it's because of their talk yesterday about the current political power games being played in the Clave and how it’s putting the Lightwood family in a precarious position - was enough to actually get his siblings on _his_ side, to get them to actually try to see past their own noses for once. _

_Which, hallelujah. _

_Sure, neither Izzy nor Jace entirely approve of his plan to let the Clave in on the Mortal Cup most likely being hidden in a tarot card, but at least they seem willing to concede that Valentine possibly being possession of it means Alec does actually have rather excellent reasons for that decision._

_And they would even have accompanied him to Idris, hoping to give his voice a little more weight in front of the Clave with their presence. Alec is actually the one who made them stay behind, putting Izzy in charge of the Institute in case something happens in his absence, and then putting Jace on Clary-sitting duty because Alec just doesn’t trust that girl not to make use of their absence to further her own agenda._

_And he most certainly wasn’t going to take one Clary Fray to Alicante with them. Yeah, no way. Who knows what sort of mess she’d create if given access to the heart of the Clave. _

_Not that she would have agreed to come, seeing as she is refusing to be around Alec anyway, apparently angry at him for deciding to go against what serves her personal goals best._

_At this point, he mostly just feels exasperation whenever he thinks of her. He so absolutely doesn't get what Jace sees in her. Like, _at all_. Well, okay, at least not beyond her one redeeming quality, namely her apparent, uncompromising loyalty to her family. Even Alec can admit that he himself finds that sort of unshakable loyalty truly attractive in a person. In a _male_ person. But still._

_Loyalty is kind of _everything_ to Alec. And the only other person he knows who is as uncompromisingly loyal as him to those he calls family, is Jace._

_It's one of the reasons why Alec has always had trouble separating the draw of his parabatai bond from the draw of simple attraction. Because Jace is not only attractive in a purely aesthetic sense but he is also pretty much everything _else_ Alec wants in a partner. _

_Well, except for the fact that he is also his parabatai and kind of his brother and so much closer to him already - bound to his very _soul_ \- than a relationship would get them and while definitely attractive, Alec has also seen Jace naked countless times at this point, so he can say with absolute certainty that he isn't actually sexually attracted to his parabatai in any notable way._

_Which doesn't change Alec's jealousy, the fact that he rather possessively guards their bond, forever resentful of anyone who takes his parabatai's attention away from him. _

_Like one Clary Fray. Who has Jace so spellbound, his parabatai apparently struggles to even think straight anymore._

_Which brings Alec back to the reason why he is currently in Alicante, alone, striding through the corridors of the Council’s building on his way to the High Inquisitor's office, intent on passing on the information regarding one of the most sacred and most powerful artifacts in their world. _

_Because his own sensibilities and insecurities aside, Alec has already spent too much time placating that girl for Jace's sake, has put too many of the Shadowhunters under his command at risk for her. And risking his own career, his reputation, his life, or even the standing of the Lightwood family is _one_ thing. Risking the peace of the entire Shadowworld for her sake is something else entirely._

_At this point, his choices are either keeping silent, hiding the fact that there is a very real possibility of Valentine having the Cup and potentially even already making new Shadowhunters as he pleases. Or telling the Clave about the tarot card and relying on their extensive network of Institutes and Shadowhunters spanning the entire globe to help look the Cup, all the while hopefully also actively working to keep the peace in the Shadowworld as a whole._

_The first option is quite likely going to lead to war. The second at least gives them a _chance_. _

Yeah, it's not really much of a choice at all.

_Alec breathes in, firms his resolves. _

_And then raises his hand, knocking firmly on the door to Imogen Herondale's office. _

_He can only hope that the Clave will be willing to put politics and power games aside in order to do their part in keeping the peace. _

+++

Magnus isn’t surprised when Raphael pulls him aside as soon as Simon has wandered off a little, distracted as he oohs and aahs at Magnus' collection of various magical knickknacks displayed throughout his apartment.

He knew the moment Raphael showed up at his door that there must be an additional reason for him deciding to bring the fledgling vampire to him instead of keeping him at the hotel and laying the groundwork for folding him into the clan to make his transition as smooth as possible in case he does decide to become a vampire.

He even has a fairly good idea just what this is about.

"Magnus," Raphael starts, something heavy, something hesitant but weighty in his voice.

Magnus sighs, sadness welling up inside of him, but his voice steady as he asks calmly, "You brought Simon here, so he wouldn't have to witness his new sire being taken out by the clan, I assume?" He is glad to note that his tone doesn’t give any of his melancholy at that thought away.

Raphael's mouth pulls down slightly, even as he nods carefully, eyes shuttered, sympathetic as he watches Magnus intently - fully aware of that not-quite-healthy-but-still-so-deep bond Magnus has shared with Camille for over a century now - but also pure determination in his stance. "She can't be allowed to continue like this," he confirms. "She doesn't _care_ anymore. Not about the Accords, not about the clan, not about the Clave coming after us. Tensions are already running high and if word gets out about her freely turning mundanes, my clan is simply not going to survive the Shadowhunter's retaliation."

Magnus breathes out, closes his eyes, fights down the grief running through him.

But he also knows Raphael is right.

As much as he has loved Camille, as much as he still treasures what they once had - one-sided as his affections may have been - there is a reason why Magnus finally cut ties with her. She has been losing her hold on whatever had remained of her humanity even just a century ago for a long time now.

And if she has now devolved to the point where she is putting her own clan - _Raphael's_ clan - in real tangible danger...

He breathes in once, opens his eyes, and focuses on the vampire in front of him, the vampire Magnus would freely call his son if anyone ever thought to ask. "Do you need my help in handling her?"

"_No_," Raphael cuts in immediately. And as brusque as that brush-off sounds, Magnus knows the vehemence in his voice is much more about his resolution to spare Magnus the pain of having to go up against Camille – his lover, friend, confidante, partner-in-crime for so many decades – than it is about actually not needing or not wanting his help.

Even knowing that, Magnus can't help the utter relief that runs through him at the refusal, glad he will not actually have to be involved.

Raphael continues strongly, "The Clan already agreed. We are not going to kill her, only going to lock her into her coffin, at least for a decade or so until tensions hopefully have lessened a little. And together the clan can easily hold her down long enough to lock her away."

"Okay, dear boy," Magnus nods. Then, he can't help but add on, "Just. Be careful. You know her. Always at least another ace up her sleeve."

A firm nod is all he gets in response. But the relief shining in Raphael's eyes at Magnus' agreement - at him not speaking up on Camille's behalf - is absolutely worth the pain already thrumming through him at the thought of effectively losing yet another person he once called a friend.

But, in the end, if Magnus is put in front of a choice between her and one of his children? Well, that's not really a choice at all. There is nothing Magnus _wouldn't_ do for those he truly calls his.

+++

_Alec forces himself to keep his breathing even, his face clear, makes sure not to let any of the anger currently running through him show on his face, even as he makes his way through the city of Alicante, the Lightwood manor where his parents are currently staying a clear goal in his mind._

_His current fury actually has nothing to do with his original reason for coming to Idris. _

_If anything, his trip here went much better than he had even dared to hope. Not only his meeting with Imogen, but also how she - in her role as the High Inquisitor - had immediately called in a meeting of everyone higher up in the Clave hierarchy as soon as Alec informed her about the Cup, apparently determined to bring every single one of them up to speed right away. A meeting which Alec had then also found himself included in, to his surprise actually able to give his input on matters very much concerning his city and his Institute._

_He honestly hadn't expected any of that._

_The best thing to come out of that meeting was the Clave’s conclusion that the risk of Valentine possibly using the Cup to create Shadowhunters as he pleases, poses too large of a potential threat to keep this on the down-low._

_Because Circle members are supposed to be marked as such, identifiable to other Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike. But, suddenly, there is the very real threat of Valentine creating unmarked Shadowhunters loyal to only him and his cause, who might then go around killing Downworlders indiscriminately but _without_ being identifiable as Circle members..._

_The Downworld might just decide they've had enough and start that war they had threatened the last time Valentine had co-opted the Clave's banner to rain terror down unto their world. _

_And apparently, even the Clave isn't willing to risk an actual all-out war with the entire Downworld over information politics and thus decided to just be up front with the Downworld for once. So in a move that is admittedly almost astoundingly uncharacteristic for the Clave, they decided to not only issue an alert about the Cup's assumed whereabouts to the Institutes around the globe, but to also instruct them to pass on that information to their local Downworld representatives. _

_And, yes, Alec had honestly been hoping for something along those lines when he came here but he hadn't been too optimistic about it actually happening, what with the Clave's history of generally trying to keep things on a need-to-know basis. Because knowledge truly is power and all that._

_So, his trip to Alicante really went great, even better than he'd hoped._

_But the thing that has Alec currently furious has nothing at all to do with any of that._

_Because on his way back to the portal area, he had run into Aline, who he hasn't seen in what feels like years, and it had been nice to catch up with her a little. And then they'd been joined by one of Aline's friends, Lydia Branwell, who Alec only knew in passing. But the three of them had gotten to talking, because it's simply not that often you get to not-so-subtly rant about the difficulties of being an heir to one of the old lines with people who actually get it, namely _other heirs_._

_It had been nice._

_But then, during the conversation, Lydia had made a comment. About family politics. _

_Just a casual comment, c__learly not aiming for anything but being actually understanding. Understanding of how Alec's position must be even _more _difficult than hers or Aline's. You know, due to his parents' history with the Circle._

_Alec breathes out harshly._

_He never thought he'd find out about his parents _lying to him for years _while essentially gossiping with other Shadowhunter heirs._

_Because _apparently _his parents were in the Circle, freely followed _Valentine_ before his first fall. A fact that they seem to have conveniently forgotten to ever mention to Alec, despite their constant lecturing about honor and the right thing and the _true Shadowhunter way_. _

_He has always tried to live up to their expectations, to their example, determined to become just like them, become the ideal Shadowhunter as they seemed to be. _

_But. _

_It seems, Alec's parents are _not at all_ what he has believed them to be all these years. Not only because of their apparent personal history, but also because of them _then_ choosing to _lie_ about it._

_Turns out, his parents are liars, cowards, hypocrites, _sanctimoniously self-righteous bigots_. And Alec tries not to think about what else his parents realistically are, tries not to consider that Valentine's doctrine never differentiated between killing innocents and those actually guilty of any sort of crime, as long as they also had demon blood. And if his parents truly followed him, followed him for _years_ even..._

_He breathes out painfully._

_No, apparently his parents don't live up to Alec’s expectations at all. Which is quite the turnaround, what with _him_ usually being the one getting reprimanded by them for _not being good enough_._

_And as he finally reaches the part of the Alicante where a number of the old Shadowhunter families still have their ancestral homes, one of them the Lightwood family manor where his parents are staying, Alec can’t help but think that it suddenly seems like _their_ estimation of what is good and what isn't, isn't really worth much at all._

_In all their endless critiquing of Alec and his siblings, in all their preaching about holding up the Lightwood name, in all their willingness to point at each and every single one of their shortcomings as direct failings to their family, his parents never thought to mention that it is actually _them_ who are to blame for any hits the Lightwood name might have taken over the past couple of decades._

No, they never deigned to mention that at all.

_And Alec is furious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I in no way expected the response I got to this premise! Thanks for that!! You guys are absolutely awesome <3
> 
> As for this chapter, I figured since Clary actually had the Lightwoods tagging along to search for her mother's cards, she didn't call Simon to help her instead, and thus he would have been even more lost than in canon and reached that point where he tries to seek out help a little sooner, goes to the only other person he knows in the Shadowworld and Raphael decides to actually help, which obviously simply means going to Magnus :) It's mainly a fix for that weird bit in canon where Raphael brings an unconscious Simon to the Institute (which, btw, _why_ would Raphael choose to bring an unconscious, newly turned mundane to the one place where he is likely to get himself, his clan, and also Simon in trouble, if not killed, just hoping the 'right' Shadowhunters show up at the door?... Honestly, those plot holes *shakes head*). It's not a perfect fix, I know, but it still seems much more reasonable than that mess in canon XD 
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	12. Shift (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where _everything_ is different. Then again, for Magnus and Alec it's just _not_. (Shadowhunters-are-known AU)

No one really knows how it started.

No one knows why the barrier between earth and hell's dimensions had weakened so suddenly, much less_ who_ or _what_ had been responsible for the numerous rifts between their world and the realms of helm hell that had appeared out of nowhere all over the world.

Even now, ten years later, all they have are theories as to what might have caused the sudden merging of the realms.

'The Coalescence', as it's called these days, had been a terrifying time.

There had been no forewarning, no time for anyone to prepare themselves before demons had already been pouring through the rifts, like gateways through the barrier that had always kept earth safe, inexplicable tears connecting their dimensions suddenly giving hell's army free access to their world.

Demons had come crawling through by the hundreds, suddenly roaming the earth freely, spreading death and terror and destruction everywhere they went. And the only thing standing between them and the so very defenseless mundanes had been the Shadowworld.

Alec himself had been fifteen at the time, just old enough to already be considered a trained Shadowhunter but still young enough that people felt uncomfortable with him actually being out on the battlefield.

Well, at least that had been the case at first. Back when no one had guessed at the actual scale of the invasion yet, when it had just been a couple of alerts of unusually high numbers of demons appearing all over the city. Back when no one had yet realized how bad things were going to get.

That first night, his parents had left Alec behind at the Institute - to watch over things there, to watch over his siblings - as they themselves and about a third of the Institute's Shadowhunters went out to dispatch the demons that had suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere, now terrorizing their city.

They had been utterly unprepared for the sheer number of demons they would be facing.

Less than half of those Shadowhunters ever even made it back to the Institute that first night, having found themselves entirely overwhelmed by the seemingly endless hordes of demons so suddenly roaming the city.

Alec still remembers the utter terror, the pure desperation on their faces, the true fear in every line of their bodies, as the survivors scrambled back across the Institute's wards, horror in their eyes as they sought refuge on the hallowed ground of their church. To regroup, to _think_, to figure out what in the world was going on.

To this day Alec is grateful that his mother had been amongst those who returned at all.

Even if his father hadn't.

And after that first night, when they realized that it wasn't just a single wave of demons to be defeated but _endless hordes to hold out against_, things had changed.

Not only for his family due to their loss, or even just for the Institute due to the realizing the scale of the invasion. But also because the Downworld had then promptly - and rather effectively - inserted itself into the fight, putting themselves firmly right beside Shadowhunters, absolutely willing to defend their city alongside them.

Alec had learned rather quickly to appreciate the brutality of vampires and werewolves as they uncompromisingly tore through the demon hordes right beside him, learned to rely on the cover of fiery warlock wards to retreat behind and let him catch his breath, learned to trust the quicksilver fighting style of the faeries covering his back. Even the Circle had abruptly dropped their doctrine of Shadowhunter superiority and instead fluidly stepped in to fight hell's armies right alongside the rest of them.

The Shadowworld closed ranks, collectively putting themselves right in the path of the attacking demon hordes, to protect the rather defenseless mundanes cowering in their shadow.

It still didn't make much of a difference.

Not with the rifts still gaping wide open, leaving every demon they killed and sent back to hell free to simply return through one of those gates as soon as they reformed.

Still. They did their best.

They fought.

_Kept_ fighting.

_Endlessly_.

Alec had started switching off with his mother mere days into the Coalescence, one of them always out on the streets helping to protect as much of their world as they could, the other in charge of organizing the city-wide fight against the demons flooding their city, directing their forces as needed for the best protection they could offer the mundanes, making sure there was always at least one Lightwood at the Institute to lead their city's Shadowhunters, a clear command structure in place.

As much as they would have liked to, they couldn't both be outside, fighting. Because the Lightwoods were the leaders of the New York Institute, confirmed by the Clave and therefore unchallenged.

And if something were to happen to both Alec and his mother, there was no Clave left who might have been able to appoint a successor.

Because at that point, there had been no more Clave in Idris, no directives being given, no reinforcements being sent. Not anymore.

Not because Idris had fallen, but simply because all capable Shadowhunter forces had already distributed themselves around the world, every single one of them throwing themselves into the fight against hell's armies.

At that point only children - thankfully also including Alec's siblings - had still remained in Alicante, being kept safe under the watchful eye of those few unable to join the fight, elders, wounded, and those sworn to stay behind, like the Silent Brothers.

It had been their last reassurance. The fact that Idris was still standing, the anti-demon wards still untouched. The fact that even as the situation in the mundane world was looking bleaker and bleaker by the day - as Shadowhunters and Downworlders and mundanes kept dying, while the demons simply kept ever-replenishing their forces - there was still a safe place on this earth, untouched by the terror of the demon hordes. The thought that at least their children and culture were being kept safe.

That reassurance was far more than the mundanes were able to claim, utterly defenseless against the sudden invaders.

That isn't to say the mundanes hadn't _tried_ to join in once they got over the shock of the invasion by creatures that shouldn't even exist in their eyes. And even Alec can admit that the mundane military had certainly proven itself absolutely willing to throw themselves right into the path of any danger coming for those they called civilians, despite not knowing what they were actually going up against, and even continuing to do so when that 'danger' kept taking them out by the hundreds.

But for all their willingness to stand up for their own world, the mundanes simply hadn't known how to fight demons. And there just hadn't been enough Shadowhunters and Downworlders to even dream of winning this fight, not with their numbers ever-dwindling with each passing day, while the demon armies seemed untouched no matter how many they managed to kill and send back to hell.

Of course, it's been almost ten years since then. But even now, no one really knows how it happened at all.

Sure, there are theories these days. Mostly based around the fact that they had quickly realized that those rifts didn't actually open to _all_ realms of hell, but rather to just two of them, Duduael and Edom. And that the demons from those two dimensions were even more set on fighting each other than they were on ripping apart mundanes.

A fact that everyone on their side was rather grateful for, the demons' preoccupation with each other most likely the only reason why earth hadn't simply been wiped clean of mundanes within the first couple of days.

Most theories trying to explain the Coalescence these days tend to revolve around the idea of there having been some sort of internal power struggle between Dudual and Edom, maybe their regents clashing, pitting the demons of both dimensions against each other, and the fight then somehow haven spilled over to earth.

Of course, there is no proof either way, so that's still all it is. _Theories_. As much as people would like to claim otherwise, as much as people have tried to come up with explanations, no one truly knows how it started.

Or even how it ended.

Because the rifts have been closed for just as long, almost ten years now, had only been open for a couple of days at all.

The rifts had only remained open right until one Magnus Bane - High Warlock of Brooklyn, heir to one of the Princes of Hell, son to the Greater Demon Asmodeus _himself_ \- had decided to go pay his father a visit in Edom.

_Everyone_ knows that bit of the story.

Even if New York's Shadowworld in particular likes to boast about the fact that only a mere hour after _their_ High Warlock had left to fix whatever was happening in hell, the rifts had once more crumbled in on themselves, erased, leaving nothing behind but deeply gouged scorch marks on the ground, nothing but ashes and charred earth marking the sites where the demon hordes had once dragged themselves through.

The rifts had been gone once more, disappeared as though they had never been there in the first place, and there have been no signs of any similar disturbances since.

And now, ten years later, they still don't really know what caused it in the first place. Just as no one knows how it stopped, either.

Because while it's common knowledge that Magnus Bane had gone to Edom hoping to _fix_ it, and while everyone is even willing to agree that the warlock seems to have actually _succeeded_ somehow, what with the rifts closing so soon after he left. But no one ever actually got to ask him exactly what he found on the other side of those rifts, much less how he managed to _close_ them.

Because Magnus Bane hasn’t been seen since.

It's common knowledge that New York's High Warlock went to Edom to help protect their world. Just as it's common knowledge that he never returned.

That the warlock who they all quite likely owe their lives to never actually came back from Edom, that no one knows whether he is stuck in hell, struck a deal, or is just choosing to stay there. Whether he even survived at all.

Ten years later, and the intrigue surrounding those few days still remains undiminished, the _who_, the _how_, and the _why_ of the Coalescence - Magnus Bane in general and the fate of the warlock who probably saved them all in particular - still the Shadowworld's absolute favorite topics to speculate about.

If you ask him, Alec honestly wouldn't blame the man if he - upon getting out of hell - simply decided to just hide out somewhere, luxuriating in a life of anonymity, if only to escape the gossiping masses.

Alec would more than get it. With all the commotion around the Shadowworld as a whole ever since the mundanes got an inkling of their existence during the Coalescence, not to even mention the ever-continuing, seemingly ever-_increasing_ commotion around Magnus Bane from the Shadowworld's _own_ end, Alec would definitely understand not wanting to step back into the limelight.

He himself already hates having lost some of their invisibility in front of the mundanes, hates that they have lost even the slightest bit of the obscurity that has served the Shadowworld so well for centuries and continues to do so in their ongoing fight against the demons that still pop up sporadically, just as they had before the Coalescence.

So, no, he certainly wouldn't blame Magnus Bane at all if the man simply chose to hide himself away in the aftermath.

Quite to the contrary. If Magnus Bane truly _is_ hiding out somewhere, then Alec would actually quite like to join him there, if only to escape his own bit of 'fame'.

Oh, would he ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm not really sure about this one? This idea suddenly popped into my head, and now it’s turning into this absurdly detailed, stupidly complex 'verse in my mind (especially on the demon end of things for once). For now, I tried to shrink this down to just a first glimpse into this world (kind of like a prologue?) but I might have gone a little overboard with the editing and now I'm just really hoping that it still makes sense...
> 
> Also, _of course_ Magnus is still very much alive in this (which should come as a surprise to absolutely no one) and he'll actually appear in the next chapter already.
> 
> Would absolutely love to know what you think :D


	13. Shift (part 2)

Alec grits his teeth, pushing his way through the crowd on the dance floor, glad to have finally succeeded in shaking off his siblings and now determined to find somewhere at least a _little_ less crowded in this place to retreat to.

_Angel, why did Izzy have to insist on dragging me here. _

Alec absolutely hates going out to places like this. As Izzy knows full-well.

It's not even just because it's a nightclub – which is already not Alec’s sort of thing at all – but even more so because it’s a _mundane_ club, meaning this is also the sort of place where mundanes _gather_. En masse. And they all keep hanging on to Alec like he is their very own fantasy come to life.

Izzy thinks it's hilarious and Jace thinks he should just take advantage. Never mind that they are both fully aware just how Alec himself hates it, already really rather dislikes the nightclub scene by itself but hates having to fend off endless advances from mundanes even more.

Seriously, he wants to go back to the days when mundanes didn’t have so much as an inkling of there even being anything out there aside from that neat, little, ordinary, _magic-free_ world they thought they lived in. Alec wants to go back to before the Coalescence, when mundanes were still utterly ignorant and Shadowhunters could simply go about their day without being bothered, killing demons as is their job without any sort of interference.

Thing is, the Shadowworld isn't quite as 'in the shadows' any longer as it once used to be, mundanes having become rather inevitably aware of them when the demon hordes had flooded through the rifts, and Shadowhunters, werewolves, vampires, warlocks, and even faeries had simply been too busy trying to defend their world to also worry about not letting anyone mundane see them do just that.

Sure, mundanes are still mostly in the dark about the supernatural, still have no idea that the Shadowworld exists as such, have no knowledge of the unceasing war between heaven and hell waging on - still and forevermore - in their world. Mundanes are neither aware of the ever-present threat of demons nor of the protections afforded to them by angels, and they certainly don’t know about the various elements of the Shadowworld set right in the middle of that eternal war, part of both but at the same time belonging to neither, and doing its best to protect their world.

And no matter how his siblings personally see it, the Shadowworld as a whole _likes_ it that way, likes being in the shadows, unknown to – and _unbothered by_ – mundanes. The Shadowworld is in no way interested in cluing mundanes in on their existence at all. 

Nevertheless, ever since the Coalescence the mundanes have become at least somewhat aware of there being something else out there. Even those who like to cheerfully deny the existence of anything ‘supernatural’ out of hand know there still has to be _something_ beyond what they are generally aware of.

_Something_ that – during the Coalescence – had had also brought forth the demon hordes.

Or the ‘mutants’. Or ‘zombies’. Or ‘aliens’. Or whatever else the mundanes – depending on who you talk to – want to call the for them inexplicable creatures that had flooded their world back then, taking so many lives in so short a time.

Alec is more than a little grateful for the fact that, while the mundanes might now be aware of there being ‘something’ out there, they still have no clue whatsoever just what that _something_ is.

Mostly because once the rifts had been closed and once the remaining demons still roaming the earth at that point had been hunted down, Shadowhunters and Downworlders had then done everything in their power to hide themselves away once more.

Sure, there was no way to hide the Coalescence itself - too many people had died in those few days, too much destruction had been wrought around the world, too many people who had _seen_ – but the Shadowworld collectively still did everything it could to at least hide its own existence.

Magic and hacking and secret deals. Falsifying witness accounts, providing ‘experts’ to give testimonies as to possible explanations for inexplicable phenomena, inciting religious leaders into crying blasphemy whenever anyone dared to even suggest any sort of connection of the demons to their own beliefs.

The Shadowworld used every single tool at its disposal to curb rumors, to nullify information, to undermine witness reports. Anything to let them withdraw into obscurity once more.

Especially the warlocks had run themselves practically ragged in the aftermath, seeking out those who had seen too much and erasing memories, casting wide-spread spells, joining their magic to glamor entire cities in order to make mundanes once more simply look past anything non-ordinary they might see, not only in the future but also spells to make anything within their own memories hinting at a non-mundane world seem just a little more less believable to them all.

The same way the Shadowworld has been protected from mundanes for centuries now.

And then, they simply left the mundanes to do what they do best, namely come up with their own explanation for what might have happened, as always eager to explain anything truly magical away.

Thankfully, during the Coalescence itself, the mundanes had been too busy just trying to survive to worry too much about just who was attacking them or even who was trying to protect them, so the actual, physical evidence of the Shadowworld’s various races turned out to be somewhat limited. And by the time the mundanes really started asking questions, the Shadowworld had already done all it could to once more hide itself away.

Still. Unavoidably, a couple of things slipped past. Not too much, but enough for the rumors to start.

In the end, there were only a few things that the mundanes could collectively agree on, namely that there _had_ been people fighting on their side who moved faster than humanly possible, who were stronger than anything they knew, and who had abilities that shouldn’t exist. That those people seemed to be fighting alongside the mundane military whenever those two factions were spotted together. And that a number of those people had been covered in runes.

Fortunately, in the immediate aftermath, some warlocks even had the foresight to specifically focus their memory spells and perception-warping glamors on the various leaders around the world, making those in power especially prone to simply denying the entire Shadowworld's existence out of hand. And in some parts of the world, that particular scheme actually worked rather well, with governments contradicting the existence of anything non-ordinary and large parts of the population happy to follow along with that claim.

However, in _other_ countries the government’s denial somehow only served to convince the general population that there must be some sort of world-wide cover up going on.

Countries like the US as an entirely random example. Because of course the country where Alec lives and leads his own Institute would be one of those. Because he’s just that _lucky_.

Please note the sarcasm there.

These days, the general consensus amongst the mundanes he comes in contact with seems to be that those fighters they had seen during the Coalescence _must_ clearly be some sort of world-wide defense unit of enhanced and specially trained fighters who had been able to fight off the apparent ‘monsters’. And that the government is now clearly trying to cover up the existence of said defense squad.

Which is just... Yeah, ridiculous doesn't even cover it in Alec's eyes. Well, it’s still better than them actually figuring out the truth.

And he probably wouldn't even _care_.

If it weren't for the fact that mundanes somehow managed to make the connection between Shadowhunter runes - that had been so clearly seen on many of the fighters during the Coalescence - and said imaginary fight unit.

And now, runes have become 'a thing'.

Even _more_ so once the mundanes realized that tattooing those symbols on their own skin - after some images of Shadowhunter runes pulled from some footage had apparently surfaced somewhere - really isn't the best idea, that doing so tends to be rather painful, that the tattoos themselves tend to fade within mere hours of trying to apply them, and that they also tend to leave rather harsh, misshapen scars in their wake.

Turns out, even the angels aren't particularly amused by mundanes daring to misappropriate their symbols and that they have absolutely no compunction about making their displeasure known

Alec thinks it serves the mundanes right for even daring to try. The mere _attempt_ already irks him something fierce.

However, with mundanes having proven to themselves that you _can't_ tattoo angelic runes onto yourself, actually _having_ runes now easily identifies Shadowhunters to them as part of that supposed elite government fight squad that doesn’t actually exist, no matter how much they keep talking about it.

Alec kind of hates it.

Well, not just 'kind of'. He absolutely _abhors_ the fact that his runes now draw mundanes' eyes. Because it's apparently catnip to _all_ of them.

Like right now, when he finally reaches the thinning crowd milling about at the edges of the dance floor, and he can already see several pairs of eyes land on him, quickly scanning the runes covering his arms, eyes lighting up, people nudging their friends to point Alec out to them.

_Yeah, no_, he thinks, let's a scowl overtake his face, knowing that - interest in him or not - there aren't many people in the world who'd willingly face down his scowl for _any_ reason. Much less if they are just looking for a bit of fun.

And as expected, as soon as they actually catch sight of his expression, most of the mundanes staring at him promptly start looking rather squirrely, and then proceed to quickly redirect their stares elsewhere, twitching anxiously until Alec finally deigns to look away as well.

_Hnpf. _

It's yet another reason why spending time here is the absolute last thing Alec actually wants to do. But_ somehow_ Izzy managed to weasel a promise out of him earlier that he'd not only stay for at least an hour but also that he wouldn't use any of his runes while he is here, meaning no convenient invisibility rune to hide himself in some corner somewhere and then take off as soon as that hour is up.

He chances a glance at his phone and then promptly sighs in annoyance. It's not even been half an hour since they got here. Just twenty minutes in this place and Alec is already gritting his teeth.

He honestly wishes that _at some point_ his siblings would just accept the fact that Alec simply doesn't _like_ going out, that just because _they_ enjoy this sort of thing doesn't mean he does, that he doesn't want to be in places like this, no matter how much they seem to think he needs to 'go out and have some fun' or to 'find himself someone to have some fun with'.

It's not even that he is opposed to the idea of finding someone, not at all. It’s just the 'having some fun' part of that statement that he has a problem with.

There's a _reason_ why he's never been in an actual relationship. Reasons that go well beyond how dedicated he is to his work, beyond the fact that being anything but heterosexual had once been rather taboo amongst Shadowhunters, even beyond the fact that Alec just doesn’t like people in general or that he barely if ever feels attracted to anyone.

No, the main reason why he has yet to find someone for him to actually be with is that, for one, he never looks for something casual. And secondly, he most certainly doesn't settle. Not ever.

Alec made up his mind about this a long time ago. He wants the real thing, or nothing at all.

And if that mindset makes him a 'hopeless romantic' or a 'marshmallow inside' or 'unnecessarily mushy' or whatever else his siblings want to call him, well, then so be it. Alec still isn't settling for anything _less_.

Yet another thing that Izzy and Jace have yet to understand about him.

Alec huffs slightly as he glances around himself. _Either way, the likelihood of me finding someone in a place like this is pretty much nonexistent. _

But a promise is still a promise. And he has another thirty-nine minutes to kill before he can finally take off and then spend his evening doing things that he actually enjoys.

Alec lets his eyes scan across the room, catching sight of the bar off to the side. Maybe if he huddles in a corner over there, far away from the dance floor and the dancing masses, no one will notice him. Well, he can at least hope.

He quickly moves to make his way over to the bar, steps around the crowd gathered on one side, all of them vying for the bartenders' attention, and instead aims for the shorter end of the bar off to the side where there is less of a crowd and most of the barstools seem to be unoccupied.

This part of the club seems much quieter and much better suited for trying to hide out.

There are actually only three other people sitting there, two of them clearly a couple, fixated on each other and making out in the corner, and the third being a man sitting by himself, the seats on either side of him empty.

Alec actually has to blink for a second as he nears the bar and is finally close enough to see the man sitting there fully despite the dim lighting in the club.

Because, well, this man is _pretty_.

Like, _really really_ pretty.

Alec swallows, feels his steps slowing almost automatically as he draws nearer, as though subconsciously trying to give himself a little more time to take in the sight before the man is likely going to notice him once he gets close enough.

The man actually looks a little subdued, eyes dark and a little hooded where he is leaning back slightly against the bar, legs elegantly crossed in front of him as he calmly sips his drink from a high-stemmed glass, clearly relaxed but also looking oddly alert at the same time, eyes leisurely fixed on the dance floor in front of him, taking in the sight of the crowd undulating to the music.

Alec takes the opportunity of the man’s apparent distraction to quickly let his eyes drag over him.

_Angel, I don't think I've ever seen anyone this _pretty_ before._

He's not even styled in a particularly fancy manner, hair smoothed down and in a side part, his clothes obviously high-end and perfectly tailored but somehow still simple, just close-fitting, dark pants and a maroon silk button-up shirt, no accessories in sight. As far as Alec can see, the most spectacular thing about his outfit are his painted nails, which admittedly do end up catching Alec's eye where his fingers are elegantly wrapped around the stem of his cocktail glass.

There is still something rather captivating about this man, having Alec unable to really look away, leaving him helplessly staring, almost mesmerized.

And then he is suddenly glancing up, as though feeling his eyes on him, focus moving in Alec's direction, easily picking him out and meeting his gaze.

There is a second as the man just blinks, clearly a little startled to find Alec staring at him so blatantly. But then, a small smile is quirking his lips, as he seems to somehow relax even a little further, calmly holding Alec's gaze, clearly rather unbothered by his stare.

And - best of all - his eyes don't flit down to glance at Alec's runes even _once_.

Which, _hallelujah. _

He isn’t even aware that he's still staring until he sees the man's smile curving into something a little more coy, a little more heated. Alec blinks, swallows. And finally makes his feet move again, somehow not even having realized that he had stopped where he stood the moment the man at the bar had met his gaze.

There is a brief second where he almost considers whether he should pretend nonchalant disinterest and just pick a seat further away from the man still watching him. But, then he huffs, calls himself a coward, and smoothly moves over to stand in the clear space right beside where the man is sitting on his barstool, eyes still on Alec, attention apparently just as drawn to him as Alec's is in return.

_Definitely the right decision_, he thinks as he sees the man's smile widen a little further as soon as Alec steps up next to him.

There are barely a few seconds as they just hold each other’s gaze, eyes locked, taking each other in.

"Hello," the man finally greets, smile small but somehow still radiant, voice warm and lilting and drawing Alec in even with just that one word. And there is something so open and inviting about this man, something that pulls Alec in, holds his attention, magnetic and luminous and bright.

"Hi," he actually manages to greet back, but doesn't quite trust himself with anything non-monosyllabic right now, lest his tongue tries tying itself into knots.

Because, _angel_, he is even prettier up close. Which Alec honestly hadn't thought would be possible.

He doesn’t even know how to describe this, the way his attention is so entirely taken up by this man, having him so utterly transfixed, his focus on him instant, exclusive, _unwavering_. Like being drawn in by an inescapable pull, almost physical in its intensity. Alec has never felt anything even remotely like this before in his life.

_Well, maybe letting myself be dragged here tonight, wasn’t a complete waste of time after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… I might have gotten a bit lost in the worldbuilding here? But, yay, at least I actually managed to include their meeting. Go, me XD
> 
> And I would love to know what you think :D


	14. Priorities (part 3)

Magnus sighs slightly to himself as he closes the door behind Raphael.

The vampire just left to return to Hotel Dumort - most likely fully intending to take care of Camille right now, never one to dawdle once he has made a decision - and Raphael also remained absolutely adamant about Simon staying behind at Magnus' loft, most likely wanting to spare the kid the pain of having to go against his sire.

Well, 'sire' if Simon decides to actually turn at all.

Magnus thinks Raphael's protectiveness of this kid is rather adorable. His broody little vampire is such a marshmallow inside.

Which however doesn't change the fact that it leaves him with a fledgling vampire still bouncing about his loft, sticking his nose into every single nook and cranny he can find and asking Magnus seemingly endless questions about the Shadowworld.

It's actually getting pretty late into the night at this point, and Magnus has already listened to the kid chatter on about his mother and his sister and how he's so hungry but 'ew, blood', and how everything around him is so much brighter and louder and clearer but how it's also too much to actually let him focus on anything, and also that one childhood friend of his who is apparently part of the Shadowworld and only found out about it last week, dragging Simon along for the ride, but then just leaving him to sink or swim after that whole being-captured-by-vampires debacle, suddenly nowhere to be found.

The kid had just chattered on, almost like a dam breaking. Like he hasn't had anyone else to talk to at all.

So, despite his initial surprise at the endless flood of words, in the end Magnus had just leaned back in his chair to listen.

Because he gets that - after having your entire life turned upside down - sometimes it's just about being able to get everything off your chest, to have someone who'll listen as you ramble your entire existence at them. Sometimes just having someone _there_ can already help tremendously. Help in taking a step towards acceptance and maybe even towards deciding how to _deal_ with it all.

So, Magnus had just listened as Simon had cheerfully chattered on. And they had both ignored Raphael rolling his eyes rather loudly in the background.

Even now, despite Raphael having left and despite the late hour, Magnus still simply doesn't have the heart to tell the kid to go away. Not when there is every chance that this might be one of Simon's very last days on earth.

Magnus sighs quietly to himself, resigns himself to getting little - if any - sleep tonight, before he schools his expression and finally moves to casually wander back to the living room where Simon is once more sitting on the couch.

"So, my dear," he asks calmly as he takes a seat in one of the armchairs across from the kid, casually leaning back into the cushions, even as he focuses fully on the fledgling vampire. "How can I be of help?"

Simon blinks at him for a couple of seconds - whether at the offer of help itself or because the kid actually has to think about it, Magnus can't quite tell - before he finally seems to gather himself to not-quite-ask, "Raphael keeps saying being a vampire isn't all it's cracked up to be." And in contrast to his earlier humor - sarcastic though it may have been - at his situation, suddenly everything about the kid is suddenly screaming just how utterly lost he is, adrift, caught in-between two worlds, one of which he knows absolutely nothing about.

And Magnus can't help but sympathize with him. It's truly not the first time he's met a fledgling vampire but their obvious confusion at finding their world - their entire _life_ \- turned on its head still tugs at his heartstrings every single time.

He tilts his head, answering honestly, "It has its drawbacks, sure. But there are also definite perks to it as well."

Simon blinks at him, the somber air around him abruptly vanishing once more as his eyes widen in curiosity. "You mean like being immortal, right?" he nods enthusiastically. "Which I wanted ask about anyway. I mean, is immortality actually a _good_ thing or a _bad_ thing? Because the movies and the books and the comics really aren't very clear on that. They never seem to make up their mind whether living forever is actually worth... _living forever_. You know?"

Magnus almost wants to sigh at the enthusiasm practically radiating off the kid now.

_Honestly, he's like a puppy. The clumsy, getting-its-nose-into-everything-it-isn't-supposed-to sort._

Simon is still babbling on, undeterred by Magnus' silence, "Like I mean, being a vampire gotta be pretty cool, what with the superspeed and the superstrength and the supersenses and... any other super-whatevers that I can't think of right now. Because those are pretty obvious. But I figure there has to be more to it, right? Because Raphael keeps saying that being immortal isn't _worth_ becoming a vampire."

Magnus feels himself sobering fully at that last statement. Because as simple as that sentence may sound, as much as he would certainly re-emphasize that comment, it's still also the actual crux of the matter.

People always forget that nothing in life is truly free. And that immortal life most certainly has its own price.

Raphael himself still hasn't entirely come to terms with all he lost by becoming vampire, still continues to live _through_ and live _for_ his sister. But even that is drawing near its end, and Magnus already knows Raphael will fall entirely apart once he loses that last anchor to what used to be his mortal life.

Not that he can't relate somewhat as well, feels his mind drifting towards the countless friends, enemies, lovers, comrades, acquaintances Magnus himself has lost over the years, some of them to their own mortality, some of them to the various dangers of life, but just as many of them supposedly immortal and still simply fading as they lost their joy for life.

Eternal youth and true immortality are two very different things. And most people simply aren't built for it.

"I don't necessarily agree with the phrasing of that last bit," Magnus finally replies. This is the part of the conversation he always hates the most. "But Raphael is also right. The hardest part isn't _being_ a vampire," he intones solemnly, making Simon focus fully on him at the suddenly so somber air around him. Magnus is already sorry for what he is about to say next. "The hardest part is the choice of whether to _become_ one."

Simon is watching him with big eyes now, clearly recognizing the weight in his voice but also confused exactly what Magnus is talking about.

So, Magnus gets up, walks over to the couch the kid is sitting, stops beside him to reach out, softly laying his hand on the kid's shoulder. "The hardest part is choosing between an immortal life, knowing you will have to watch your family and loved ones leave you behind one by one. Or choosing to live out what little remains of your mortal life, knowing you'll be leaving your family and loved ones to mourn you instead."

There is a pause.

And, then.

Simon's face just crumples, realization and pain and angry helplessness shining in his eyes as he stares up at Magnus.

He just tightens his hand on the boy's shoulder, seeking to support him even as his heart constricting in empathic pain.

Magnus has never envied those vampires who actually get to make the _choice_ whether to turn or not.

If anything, he thinks that 'choice' is a curse all on its own.

+++

_Alec tries his best to keep his temper even as he makes his way through the ancestral Lightwood manor._

_He never spent much time here as a kid, but he is still familiar enough with it to easily find his way through the rather stupidly large place, utterly focused on his goal of finding his parents. _

_Not that he has any idea what he is actually going to say to them, how exactly he is going to confront them._

_The only thing he knows right now is that there is a hot, furious sort of anger pulsing in his chest, anger at their betrayal of the very values they themselves spent the past twenty years teaching him, anger at them having lessened the Lightwood name in Idris, anger at them then _still_ having the audacity of proclaiming themselves to be the epitome of Shadowhunter ideals in front of their children, anger at them daring to lie about it all for years._

_Alec has built his life, his entire existence on the idea of the Lightwood name in itself being the embodiment of the true Shadowhunter way. His mother's teachings of 'Lightwoods do not fail' and 'making mistakes is inacceptable for a Lightwood' have been his guiding light ever since he has been able to think for himself. _

_But he had very much been under the impression that he was just continuing a long line of _other_ Lightwoods doing the exact same thing._

_And his parents _let_ him, did nothing to deter him from thinking his parents to be ideal Shadowhunters in every way, let him build his life on that very foundation. All the while fully aware that it was a lie, that they were letting him build his very sense of self on a mirage they themselves created._

_He clenches his teeth in anger._

_Thing is, none of this actually changes his personal values, not at all. Alec still absolutely believes in the true Shadowhunter way and everything included in it, still believes in the inherent values and still has a very clear picture of just what makes an ideal Shadowhunter. It's just that suddenly his parents no longer _qualify. _Which is already quite the ground-shaking revelation in and of itself._

_He hears voices from his left, making him take a sharp left turn towards the study where his parents are apparently spending their evening. _ _He reaches the door barely a couple of seconds later, finding both his parents in the study, his appearance in the doorway immediately bringing their attention fully onto himself._

_There is barely a second of surprised silence._

_"Alec," his father then greets, sounding surprised to see him, although not in a bad way as he gets up from his seat behind the desk, most likely to greet him._

_"Mom, Dad," Alec greets, voice barely cordial as he nods at them both, breathes through that almost painful tightening in his chest at the sight of them, tries to fight down that mixture of anger and betrayal. _

_"What are you doing here, Alec?" his mother is asking with a frown, eyes fixed on his face, maybe able to read something of his less than jovial emotions on his face, as she gets up as well, but not even bothering with an actual greeting. Because, angel forbid, she ever make him feel anything other than inadequate no matter where he is or what he is doing._

_Although, his father is immediately stepping forward, probably intending to take the sting out of those words as he asks, "Shouldn't you be at the Institute?" _

_"I had something to take care of here in Idris," Alec replies, feeling no need whatsoever to get into a discussion about the Mortal Cup or his unilateral decision to inform the High Inquisitor before even talking it through with his parents. No, he has an entirely different topic in mind right now._

_So, he makes himself focus on the issue at hand, pushes past the fury in his veins, meeting his parents' gazes as they both watch him. _

_Alec would honestly like to know just what they see written on his face, because his father sounds almost careful when he asks, "Is everything alright at the Institute? Did something happen? Something we need to talk about?"_

_Alec almost scoffs out loud at that question, a renewed pulse of that same anger running through him at that particular phrasing. Because _he _is not the one who has been keeping secrets - who has been telling straight-faced, cowardly, _duplicitous_ lies - for years now. _

_But in the end, he just looks at them, his eyes sharply focused. _

_"What a coincidence," he intones, face bland but pure anger in his voice. "I was just about to ask you _the same thing_."_

+++

Magnus absently gazes out over New York, not really taking in the sight as his mind whirls.

He is alone at his loft once more, but unable to sleep despite the late hour.

Simon left a little while ago, an added sort of desperation about him as he said he was going home, going to see his mother and his sister, spending time with them. And Magnus absolutely gets it. Because no matter which path Simon chooses going forward, things will not be the same for him again.

But at this point, Magnus has done all he can for him.

Of course, he also gave the kid his number, told him very specifically about which symptoms to look out for as they will mark his transition into the next stage of turning, and insisted Simon text either him or Raphael once he reaches that point. Still, the decision is simply up to Simon now and Magnus can only hope the kid will be able to make peace with whichever path he chooses in the end, be it his own imminent death or an immortal life.

And now, despite finally being alone in his loft, something about this entire situation has Magnus incapable of falling asleep.

He doesn't know whether it's having to once more witness someone at the precipice of weighing immortality against living forever, a less than wonderful reminder of Magnus' own struggles with that same issue, or whether it's Camille being locked away by her own clan, or Dot having disappeared ever since Magnus saw her last, or whether it's the combination of all of the above that has him feeling so subdued right now.

Although, this is also nothing new. Sometimes he just gets like this. When the memories of spending his time amongst real friends - sometimes even a lover at his side, his hand held fast in theirs - catch up to him. Memories that remind him how _good_ life can be when he has someone to share it with, to share himself with, to give all of himself to. Just as they remind him of all the heartbreak and the desperation and that ache deep in your chest, down to your very soul, the ache that makes it difficult to breathe in fully, makes life seem gray and heavy, like a chore, makes you wonder whether it's worth it to even hold on at all.

Memories that only ever serve to remind him how many people he has lost over the years, and how many people he will _still_ lose in this eternal life of his.

So, he's feeling a little maudlin, just slightly more lonely than usual, rather desperate for some sort of companionship.

_Hm, maybe I should go visit Ragnor._

Maybe he should just take a day off from his High Warlock duties and go see his oldest, dearest friend, spend some time with his little cabbage. If only to remind himself that he in fact _isn't_ as alone as his rather maudlin thoughts are making it seem right now. Just a day off. And afterwards he can go back to being the High Warlock of his city always to be relied on to be there for everyone _else_.

Just a day off, to remind himself that he isn't entirely alone in this world.

_Yes, visiting Ragnor actually sounds like a wonderful idea. _

+++

_Alec tries to keep the frown off his face as he listens to the group of Shadowhunters currently surrounding him in the Ops center, trying to argue for some changes or other in this week's mission schedule._

_Although, h__is current bad mood is not even so much about _them _as it is about how stressful things have gotten recently._

_Ever since he got back from Idris two days ago, things just seem to be ever-gaining speed. On _all_ fronts._

_Well, the Clave actually stayed true to their decision and really sent out an alert to all Institutes around the world warning them about Valentine likely being in the possession of the Cup. Which is great and all. But _ever since_ Alec has found himself fielding endless missives, not only from New York's Downworld wanting personal confirmation of that intel but also from various other Institute Heads who somehow got wind of the fact that Alec had been the one to originally alert the Clave to this newest Valentine-induced crisis and who now collectively seem to think that Alec must have some sort of insider knowledge on the issue, pestering him either for details or suggestions on how to deal with it all. Or, more often than not, _both_._

_Then, there is the issue with his parents and the furious anger that still pulses through his chest every time he so much as thinks about them having lied to him for years, having let him build his entire existence on the assumption of their family name being the epitome of true Shadowhunter values. Only to then have it ripped out right from under him once he found out the truth. And their 'conversation' on that issue truly could have gone better, what with them only trying to offer excuses and Alec not at all willing to accept any of them._

_Additionally, there is the fact that his siblings seem to be stuck in some weird in-between place of disapproval and understanding where his actions and his reasons for said actions are concerned, seemingly ever-vacillating between wanting to argue about him having gone to Idris in the first place, while also conceding that they still haven't come up with a better solution on how he could have handled that mess._

_Clary seems to actually be avoiding him currently, something which Alec honestly can't say he is too upset about. If anything, his work tends to be quite a bit less stressful without her butting in on things. _

_But. None of that is actually what has him currently so preoccupied.  
_

_Instead, his mind keeps circling around the fact that during that meeting in Idris that he had been part of, there had been a rather _notable_ emphasis on how much the Clave approved of Alec's decision to come to them in person, ensuring the integrity of the message. Emphasis, which had more than implied that the Clave is apparently working under the assumption of Valentine having moles and spies not only within Idris itself but also specifically at the New York Institute. A thought that is really rather less than reassuring._

_Which isn't even mentioning how much he _hates _the fact that it's apparently his parents' personal history that had the Clave so uncertain about the current events in New York and whether they could actually trust the Lightwood family to be on their side or whether they should not consider sending someone to oversee matters there in case they were Valentine sympathizers after all. _

_An issue that Alec apparently fixed unknowingly. By deciding to go inform the Clave of the developments surrounding the Mortal Cup, which seems to have now cemented him as definitely-not-sympathetic-to-Valentine's-cause in their minds. As evidenced by the fact that he received a missive from the Clave just yesterday, barely hours after that meeting, informing him that his parents have been ordered to remain in Idris for the foreseeable future._

_And that _Alec_ is now the effective Head of the New York Institute._

_It actually took him a second of blinking down at the missive in his hands to fully take that little fact in._

_And, sure, it was all phrased very diplomatically. But now that Alec actually has all of the information, knows about his parents' history and the Clave's rather understandable worries about just how firm their loyalties really are, especially considering the Circle's increasingly frequent appearances in New York of all places... Yeah, it had been rather easy to read between the lines that the Clave was actually rather happy to put Alec in charge for now, a legitimate transition of the post within the family, all the while keeping his parents oh-so-conveniently confined to Idris and away from New York where Valentine seems to be focusing quite a bit of his attention recently._

_To Alec, all of this just means that he has been given a chance. A chance to prove to the Clave and everyone else that the Lightwood name really is worth as much as he himself thinks it should be. _

_He is not going to squander this chance. _

_Which however doesn't change the fact that actually running an Institute by himself is already a stupid amount of work, but now with the added stress of the situation with his parents, his siblings being no help whatsoever, always having to keep at least half and eye on Clary lest she runs off and finds a different way to put the entire Shadowworld at risk, the ridiculous amount of paperwork, the additional missions due to Valentine apparently having set up camp in New York, not to even mention all those meetings and missives about the Mortal Cup..._

_Yeah, it's been a little much. Add to that the fact that he hasn't even had time for some real training for several days now, something which has always been his offset, his way to balance out the stress. The lack of physical exertion is definitely making him even less patient, less amicable, less willing to put up with other people's not-really-all-that-significant problems._ _  
_

_Like this group of five Shadowhunters currently surrounding him and apparently trying to argue for some sort of mission schedule change for some reason or other that Alec really couldn’t care less about. Missions are missions and supposed to always be a Shadowhunter’s top priority. _

_It proves to be the last straw. _ _He can almost physically feel his patience simply run out,_

_And irritated scowl is overtaking his face, as he throws a slow, dark look around the group currently surrounding him._

_They all fall silent rather abruptly, quickly mirrored by everyone else milling about the Ops center, clearly tipped off to his souring temper by the group's sudden silence, until no one is really talking any longer, eyes fixed on him. _

_Because the Shadowhunters at the New York Institute know quite well what his current look means. Namely, that Alec has finally reached the end of his tether. Which means he is going to work through his frustration via physical exertion. And they also know that he doesn’t particularly care whether it’s an inanimate object taking the brunt of his anger or a particularly vexing Shadowhunter he picks as his sparring partner to go up against._

_So, the entire group – and everyone else in the room, as they pick up on what’s going on - remains utterly, deadly silent, knowing full well that the first person to speak up right now will effectively have ‘volunteered’ themselves as Alec’s sparring partner. _

_The sigh of relief that goes through the entire room when - after several more moments of complete silence - Alec finally just turns away to stalk towards the training area on his own, is almost comical. _

_Alec just ignores them all. _

+++

“Wait,” Ragnor chuckles amusedly. “You’re telling me the Circle actually tried to draw you away from your weekly warlock gathering in order to launch an attack on those staying behind? And they were so confident about the success of their scheme that they didn’t even bother to _check_ whether you were actually gone before they attacked?” His grin widens into something cheerfully condescending and viciously bloodthirsty at the same time. “How utterly _suicidal_ of them.”

Magnus grins back at his friend, casually leaning back in the armchair opposite Ragnor's by the window overlooking the field stretching out around his friend's house. “Hm. You should have seen their expression when I finally stepped outside of my wards to greet them. Surprisingly, facing me very much _hadn’t_ been on their list of things to get involved in that day.”

Ragnor nods in pretend confusion, amusement clear in his eyes. “Can’t imagine why they would try to avoid that, dear friend. It's not like you have a definite reputation of retaliating with vicious brutality to any attacks on those under your protection.”

“Right?” Magnus smiles beatifically but does absolutely nothing to hide the bloodthirsty vindictiveness curling at the corners of his lips, making Ragnor chuckle once more.

By magic, Magnus has missed this, missed his friend, missed having someone around who knows him, someone who gets him.

He promptly tells Ragnor as much.

“It has been too long since we saw each other.” Magnus leans comfortably back in his chair, swirls the cognac in his glass as he meets Ragnor’s gaze. “I have missed you, old friend.”

“As have I, Magnus. As have I,” Ragnor immediately returns, a small relaxed smile on his lips as he reaches forward slightly, tilts his own glass forward to clink against Magnus'.

There are several moments of comfortable silence between them as both of them simply relax.

Then, Ragnor speaks up once more, something far more careful in his voice now. “And you said they locked Camille away?”

Magnus sighs, giving a resigned nod. “Raphael didn’t see a different option any longer. She has been getting more and more reckless, putting everyone in her clan and possibly even in New York's entire Downworld at risk with her games. And when she then decided to just go against the Accords, her clan collectively decided to lock her away for a bit, maybe a decade or two, hoping things will have settled by then.”

Ragnor blinks, eyebrows jumping up on his forehead. “Oh dear,” he says. “Well, let’s just make sure the two of us are far away when they do decide to release her once more. I really do not want to be around for that.”

Magnus can’t help but wince slightly at that. “How about we flee to Antarctica? She has always hated the cold. We might be able to wait out the worst of the storm there."

Ragnor grimaces. "I don't think there's anywhere on this earth we could hide from her, old friend." He sighs. "Her ability to hold grudges truly is unparalleled. And, magic, if she isn't vindictive enough to make her displeasure known well beyond those actually responsible."

Magnus sighs in resigned agreement. "Truer words have never been spoken.”

+++

_Alec glances up from the papers spread out in front of him when there is a knock on the door of his office. _ _He feels a slight smile forming on his face at the sight of Lydia standing in the doorway. _

_"Hey," he greets, getting up from behind the desk. _

_He's been expecting her. Well, her and the contingent of Shadowhunters that has been specifically assigned to join the Institute._

_All the Institutes around the world have been ordered to amp up their security to ensure that no unregistered, possibly newly created Shadowhunters loyal to Valentine somehow manage to slip through the cracks and onto the premises, thereby potentially even gaining access to Idris itself through one of the pre-established portals._

_Alec can even say that he is honestly grateful for the added manpower. With the tightened patrol and guard schedules as well as the ever-present mission assignments - not to even mention the systematic search for Valentine in their city - at the same time, their resources would have been stretched to its absolute max if not beyond capacity. So, the added Shadowhunters now under his command are actually rather welcome._

_And once the announcement had been made that reinforcements would be sent to all Institutes, Alec might then have specifically requested Lydia to be sent as a possible envoy to New York._

_"Hey, Alec," she greets back, even as she continues to glance around the Head of the Institute office, interest rather clear in her eyes._

_The two of them have been in contact pretty much ever since their run-in in Idris, after she sent him a Fire Message barely hours after he got back to New York, wanting to once more apologize for unintentionally revealing that whole his-parents-having-been-in-the-Circle bit to him. Which they got past rather quickly, and they've been exchanging messages ever since._

_Alec can honestly say that he quite likes her. She is competent, accepts her Shadowhunter duties as her priorities in life, and she has a rather refreshing no-nonsense attitude, all the while being rather politically minded. It's a good combination and it only took them a couple of exchanged messages to realize that they get along rather well._

_"Thanks for coming," he adds on._

_"Thanks for asking the Clave for me specifically," she tilts a smile at him. "I really had to get away from Idris for a bit."_

_He blinks, raises an eyebrow in question. Because that definitely sounds like there might be a story behind that. _

_She sighs. "My parents have recently decided it's time for me to continue the line and have thus been trying to set me up with 'suitable marriage candidates'. And they're not being at all subtle about it either." There is definite irritation in her voice as she says it. _

_Alec more than understands why. For one, she told him about having been married and also about having lost her husband before and even without her saying so, it had been more than obvious that she isn't at all over that loss yet. And also..._

_"Yeah," he says, can't help but scoff slightly. "If my parents ever get it into their heads to marry me off, I might just decide to resign as heir. Or resign _them_ as heads of house." He knows he is being unusually candid but he honestly doesn't really care right now. Lydia is one of the very few people who knows just how painfully recent the revelation of his parents' history with the Circle was for him. She'll get it.  
_

_As expected, she doesn't even react to his candor and instead just huffs a laugh. "You know what? If mine don't stop with their meddling soon, I might just start seriously considering either of those options."_

_He smiles in honest amusement at that._

_"Anyway," she adds. "Thanks for getting me out of there for a bit."_

_"Don't thank me yet," he returns, sardonic humor in his voice as he glances at the work spread out over his desk. "Things have been a little insane here recently."_

_She eyes his desk and the truly stupid amount of paperwork he has been going through. "Looks like it," she says slowly. Then, a shrug. "Although, fighting off paperwork still definitely beats fighting off marriage candidates."_

_"True that," he agrees in sardonic commiseration._

_"So," she adds on, another glance at the desk. "Want some help?" _

_"Honestly?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. _

_Lydia nods. "Just tell me where to start."_

_He huffs in amusement. "Well, you can have your pick between the left or the right side of the desk and then we can try to work our way towards the middle. At this point I don't really care much beyond getting through this mess."_

_She grins at him, but is already determinedly striding forward towards his desk, eyes on the work._

_And Alec smiles in reply._

How nice to have someone around who is actually willing to help for once.

_+++_

Magnus is honestly tempted to roll his eyes at the rather incessant knocking on his door, even as he makes his way over to the entrance.

Sometimes his clients get so ridiculously twitchy, convinced the world will end if they don't get his help with their - usually rather less than impactful - problem right away.

And he barely has time to open his door the slightest bit before Luke is already practically catapulting himself across the threshold, the werewolf only coming to a stop once he has made it several steps into his loft.

"Magnus," Luke says, tension in every line of his body. "I’ve been trying to reach you. Have you heard?"

Magnus - still holding the door open - just blinks at the werewolf already in his apartment, before he ticks up an eyebrow in amusement. "And hello to you, too, Luke," he greets cheerfully as he finally closes the door.

But despite his outward cheer, his eyes are also rather intent on Luke. Because the werewolf looks almost manic, eyes wide, movements twitchy, stance aggressively defensive. Something clearly has the man unsettled. And considering that Luke is one of the most zen people Magnus knows, that's quite likely not a good sign for whatever reason that brought him here.

Although, now that the werewolf is inside, under Magnus' wards, some of the tension also seems to be finally bleeding out of his stance.

Luke frowns, then huffs. "Hello, Magnus," he intones sarcastically. Barely an instance. "_So_?" he asks again, same urgency as before in his voice.

"Hm," Magnus hums. "You might have to be a little more specific, my dear man. Have I heard _what_ exactly?"

"About the Mortal Cup," Luke adds on impatiently. As though Magnus should have miraculously just known what he is talking about.

"Oh, you mean the Clave announcing that Valentine possibly has the Cup, that he might actually have been making use of it for a while, and thus if any Downworlder were to find themselves attacked by Shadowhunters that it's to be blamed on Valentine instead of the Clave?" Magnus asks, not hiding the grim sort of humor he feels at that topic. "Honestly, I'm still on the fence whether to think it's just another one of their more treacherous schemes to get a free pass for killing a couple of Downworlders indiscriminately. Or whether this might actually be one of those rare times where the Clave is being honest and is even doing their best to put the peace with the Downworld above their own little agendas..."

"No, I'm not talking about that," Luke cuts in rather abruptly. "I mean about _how_ Valentine supposedly got the Cup."

Magnus blinks at the vehemence, pauses, before he continues slowly, "Hm, I'm fairly certain I have not heard anything about that. Did they make another announcement?" He knows they didn't. But clearly Luke has some sort of additional information. Information that apparently now has the werewolf rather twitchy.

"They didn't," Luke confirms. "But Alaric heard some Shadowhunters talking about where the Cup has supposedly been hidden all these years."

Magnus raises his eyebrows, honestly intrigued now. "You don't say," he not-quite-asks slowly. "And you're telling me this because...?"

"Because the Clave has it _wrong_," Luke asserts. "Valentine doesn't have the Cup." The slightest pause. "_I _do."

And Magnus is left blinking down at the tarot card suddenly being thrust in his face. A card with a rather familiar looking cup on it. A cup he knows despite not having seen it in literal decades.

Luke doesn't give him the time to recover from his shock before he is already continuing, "Jocelyn apparently hid it in a drawing. Of course, I didn't know about that. But after she disappeared I went by her place to pick up most of the things I know she treasured before anyone else had the chance to ransack the apartment. And I also picked up her deck of cards."

"Okay," Magnus says slowly, fully aware that it comes out sounding more like a question than an actual comment. Because revelation about the Mortal Cup's location aside, it's truly not apparent to him how any of that explains why Luke is currently presenting one of the Shadowworld's most powerful artifacts to Magnus. Presenting it almost like he expects Magnus to actually _take_ it.

Luke just keeps holding out the card to him as he adds on, "No one knows I have it and I've been walking around with the card in my pocket because I don't trust anyone else with it. But I'm too easy and too obvious a target with my well-known connection to Jocelyn and Valentine. And I tried reaching Clary but she isn't answering her phone, actually seems to have blocked my number."

Magnus tilts his head, listening intently.

Which seems enough of a sign of interest on his part to have Luke taking another step closer, still holding out the card to him as he not-quite-explains, his tone low and urgent, "Everyone _knows_ you took out that entire group of Circle members when they tried to break through your wards to crash your warlock get-together just last week. Even Valentine won't be stupid enough to try going after you again within the near future. And same goes for everyone _else_ after you sent that rather clear message of leaving that pile bodies at the dock." Luke watches him, apparently waiting for something. Before he finally implores, "Your apartment might just be the safest place in the entire city right now. You _have_ to take the Cup and keep it safe here."

Magnus blinks at Luke, honestly taken aback at that. At this development, at the trust Luke is apparently willing to put in him, at being truly surprised for the first time in about a hundred years.

_Oh,_ his mind goes.

And.

_I did not expect this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while writing this I realized that if you get rid of all the Clary-induced drama, nothing much actually happened in the first season? I even went to check and make sure I wasn't forgetting something important, but there are really only a couple more things to take care of at this point plotwise... Although, on the plus side, that also means that Malec will likely meet in the next chapter of this already :3
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	15. Shift (part 3)

Magnus keeps his posture leisurely relaxed, still leaning back against the bar, knows he is currently the very picture of casual, self-assured ease.

But he also makes sure to be absolutely obvious about just where his attention is currently aimed, easily moves to turn just the slightest bit in his seat, tilts his head a little, his eyes unwaveringly fixed on the truly gorgeous Shadowhunter who just chose to step up to the bar beside him.

Magnus almost wants to lick his lips at the sight of him.

He is tall - most likely taller than Magnus himself - and broad-shouldered, well-built, has that commanding air about him that speaks of someone who is used to having his orders followed to the letter, carries himself with the uncompromising, assertive authority of someone who is used to being in charge.

It’s the sort of self-assured confidence that Magnus has always found endlessly attractive.

But combine the obvious confidence with the nephilim’s rather apparent brief bout of nerves a couple of seconds ago, when the man had rather clearly been anxious about whether to walk up to Magnus at all…

_Now, that’s an entirely **different** level of alluring,_ he can’t help but think, eyes still openly focused on the nephilim beside him, even as he has to fight to push down the slight grin tugging at his lips. He is rather utterly charmed by this one already. And they haven’t even made it to introductions yet.

Not to even mention just how breathtakingly _gorgeous_ this man is. Beautiful features, pale skin, only serving to draw Magnus' attention to his plush, pink lips and stunningly contrasting his dark hair and almost seeming to highlight the dark outlines of the angelic runes covering his skin.

And that's without even mentioning those stunning green eyes that are currently fixed on Magnus' in return.

_Magic, this one really is exquisitely lovely_, he thinks to himself.

And Magnus has no problem whatsoever to be rather obvious about his interest in this man right now instead of his usual route of playing coy. Lest he wrongly give an impression of disinterest and possibly even make the nephilim retreat once more.

_So. Blatant flirting it is._

Magnus lets his lips tilt up the slightest bit further, makes his smile warm and inviting, something coy and slightly teasing playing at its edges, as he continues to hold holds the Shadowhunter's rather intent gaze.

Admittedly, he doesn't quite know what to make of this instant, inescapable, almost magnetic draw between them. The way his entire attention has centered itself on this nephilim, his focus drawn so very easily, automatically, almost _naturally_ to this man now standing beside him. Something almost inevitable about the way Magnus can’t quite make himself actually look away, his entire attention so utterly hooked.

He is certain he’s never felt anything quite like this before. Nothing quite this instant, this strong, this exclusive.

Which however makes this all the more intriguing. Exciting, riveting, beguiling. And Magnus has absolutely no interest in so much as glancing away anyway.

Although, their focus on each other does end up being interrupted when one of the bartenders suddenly appears in front of them to take the Shadowhunter’s order, clearly having noticed him stepping up to the bar despite the crowd of partygoers vying for the bartenders' attention a couple of feet away.

_Well_, Magnus feels his lips quirk into a slight grin. _I can most certainly relate._

Because, this Shadowhunter does have quite the presence, doesn't he? Rather hard _not_ to notice him.

And it's also really quite endearing - delightful, charming, _enticing_ \- to see the Shadowhunter blink at the bartender for a second, almost like he has to actively bring his attention back to the here and now at all. Like looking away from Magnus is a struggle in and of itself.

_Yeah, I can certainly relate to that as well_, Magnus thinks as he in turn just continues to unashamedly stare at the lovely Shadowhunter standing beside him, barely a step to his right, where Magnus himself is still leaning back against the bar.

And he actually has to fight not to let his grin widen into something truly heated – not yet at least, lest he ends up scaring the clearly somewhat skittish nephilim away - when he catches the Shadowhunter quickly glance at him from the corner of his eye as he waits for his drink, almost as if unable to keep his focus off him. As if checking that Magnus is still there.

_Like there is any chance of me going **anywhere** right now._

And, so what if Magnus maybe getting a little ahead of himself, if he is maybe a little overeager.

But, _excuse him_. Not only is this man almost _unreasonably_ gorgeous, so Magnus really doesn't think he can be blamed for wanting to make his own interest unmistakably clear. But he also only gets to flirt with _anyone_ about once every three to four months, only ever gets to indulge in this sort of thing on his far-too-rare visits to earth, whenever he grants himself a quick break from Edom, whenever he can't quite stand the utterly dull existence that is life as one of hell's regents any longer.

Honestly, he doesn't get why the Greater Demons keep fighting over those positions. Even despite the constant and never-ending wars waged between the different dimensions of hell, reigning over one of them is not just boring, it's practically _mind-numbing_.

Well, at least Magnus finally understands why demons in general seem to be forever determined to try escaping their various dimensions of hell to go to earth, even if only ever for a little while.

Thankfully, as a warlock, Magnus isn’t bound by the same restrictions as demons, doesn't have to wait to be summoned topside or wait for someone to botch a ritual in order to slip through the cracks. For him, it's fortunately only a question of making a portal and coming for a visit.

Now, if only he could simply _stay_ here instead of having to return to Edom usually within a day or so.

_If only_ that whole mess ten years ago hadn't ended with both Asmodeus and Lilith vanquished, leaving Edom without a ruler and forcing Magnus to remain in hell to take up the position for the sole reason of keeping the balance, finding himself forced to engage in the meaningless and endless wars with demons, against demons, for demons, forced to protect his father's dimension from those trying to use his absence to topple him as the ruler. If only to ensure that none of the other Greater Demons gains the added power of ruling over _two_ dimensions.

Because that might just turn out to be enough power, for them to then even gain unfettered access to earth. Like the _last time_ two of the Greater Demons from different dimensions decided to form an alliance.

You know, that time ten years ago. When the Coalescence happened. And the world almost ended as a consequence.

So, yeah, Magnus is currently stuck. As one of hell's regents. Which is a far duller job than one would think.

He really never thought he'd ever say this, but he really wishes his father would hurry up and finally drag himself out of ‘the void’ or ‘the abyss’ or wherever it is demons go when they are vanquished until they can gather enough power to once more form anew. If only, so Magnus can finally hand the scepter back to Asmodeus and then promptly flee Edom and hope he'll never have to return, much less rule over it. He’s had enough of hell to last him for the rest of his immortal life.

Alas, until his father comes back, Magnus is stuck down in Edom with only asmodei and other demons as company, his few brief visits to earth in between his only real distraction.

He practically lives for those visits these days, so adores those few brief hours he gets to spend on earth from time to time.

_Even more so if they let me come across breathtakingly stunning Shadowhunters like this_, he thinks, lets his smile quirk up a little further on one side as he keeps his eyes rather blatantly focused on the nephilim beside him.

And as soon as he finally has his drink in hand and the bartender has once more skedaddled off to somewhere else, the Shadowhunter is immediately turning to fully face Magnus once more.

There is an endearing sort of determination in the nephilim’s eyes now - almost like he might be gathering up his courage as he faces Magnus - which is just all kinds of adorable. But Magnus is also absolutely willing to let this gorgeous man be the one to take the lead if that’s what he prefers, happy to take things at his pace.

He himself simply doesn't really care who chats up whom. As long as Magnus _does_ get to talk to this one.

A second.

"Hi," the Shadowhunter then greets again. Before an immediate, slightly frustrated expression flits over his face. Like a repeated greeting isn't quite what he had actually intended to come out with.

And, really, how is Magnus supposed to keep up his usual front of suave charm and easy flirtation when this nephilim keeps being so utterly adorable, endearing, beguiling, _honestly irresistible_.

How is he supposed to flirt coyly while also keeping his distance, when the only thing he feels at this gorgeous man's apparent awkwardness, is something warm and oh-so-charmed and adoringly soft spreading in his chest, smile tugging at his lips. A feeling that is so close to actual adoration it should almost be alarming. You know, _alarming_ because they have literally exchanged three words at this point and Magnus really shouldn't feel anything along those lines yet.

_Really, how am I supposed to stand a chance against this one?_

Still, that’s something to be worried about at some later point in time.

For now, Magnus lets his smile widen slightly. "Hello," he easily greets back, as though they hadn’t already gone through this bit barely a few minutes ago, lets his body sway a little closer, shifts the slightest bit, makes himself look approachable and inviting and definitely interested, tilting his head the slightest bit to give him the best angle to look up at the Shadowhunter coyly, delighted at the rather sweetly bashful smile now spreading on the man’s face in response.

_So adorable. _

Sadly, they don’t get any further than that, don’t actually manage to get around to introductions.

Because, suddenly, Magnus' eyes are drawn to movement over the lovely Shadowhunter's shoulder, automatically glancing at the three girls currently approaching them from the dance floor.

They are obviously mundane - not a drop of angel or demon blood in any of them - and rather scantily dressed. And there is a greedy sort of hunger in their eyes that mundanes always seem to get these days at the mere sight of angelic runes.

Magnus still hasn’t entirely gotten used to just how much things have changed on earth ever since the Coalescence. Well, he also thinks no one can really blame him for not having entirely caught up yet, seeing as he’s spent a few mere days up topside in the past ten years in total, and thus simply hasn’t had the time to get used to the mundanes’ awareness of the Shadowworld at all.

But his brief moment of distraction to glance at the approaching girls is also apparently all it takes to warn the gorgeous nephilim of the new arrivals at his back.

And Magnus can't' help but commend him for his instincts, the way the nephilim's stance instantly shifts, posture going from openly interested while turned towards Magnus to practically radiating 'back off' vibes as he turns around to focus on the new arrivals, putting his back mostly to the bar, now facing a little away from Magnus, something about his stance making it rather obvious just how bad of an idea it would be for anyone to get too close.

A message that is apparently clear enough for even the mundanes to pick up on, even if only on some instinctual level. As evidenced by the girl, who had been reaching out to touch the Shadowhunter's arm, suddenly stopping mid-movement, hand still lifted in front of her but now simply frozen in midair. And when finishes turning towards the interlopers, whatever she can read on his face, promptly has her arm drop back to her side entirely.

She blinks, rather obviously confused at her own reaction, clearly uncertain just what just made her back off so effectively.

_Kudos for those survival instincts_, Magnus just thinks humorously to himself.

Although, those instincts apparently _aren't_ enough to tell them to back off entirely. Instead, the three girls are promptly taking on various lascivious poses, leaning on the bar or against one of the barstools, as they smile their best come-hither smiles at the lovely Shadowhunter in front of them.

Whose face remains absolutely neutral, almost humorously bland, as he takes in the three of them, not even the slightest hint of interest for any of them in his expression.

Which - considering just how very clearly interested he had been while staring at _Magnus_ less than a minute ago - has something rather smugly satisfied purr contently in Magnus’ chest. Makes him lazily lift his glass as he fully relaxes back against the bar, covering the pleased grin now playing around his lips by taking a sip, even as he keeps his attention the spectacle unfolding beside him, happy to wait this out, to wait for the lovely nephilim to once more turn his attention back to Magnus.

Yep, Magnus isn’t going anywhere.

Although, the first girl’s brief hesitation to touch the Shadowhunter only seems to serve as encouragement to the others to speak up first.

"Hi, hotness," one of them purrs at the man, lashes lowered, blinking up at him coyly where she is leaning against one of the barstools, short skirt riding up in a way that leaves very little actually still covered.

The other promptly chimes in, "I'm Keily, and that's Amber and Lara," her smile widening into something that Magnus can only describe as 'aggressively salacious'.

"And _you_ are really hot," the first one - the only one Magnus can fully see with the way they have positioned themselves on the Shadowhunter's other side - finally speaks up with a giggle.

"Like, _smoking_," the second one agrees, now leaning onto the bar in a way that has her breasts in danger of popping out of her shirt.

Magnus honestly just kind of wants to cringe at it all. He may be a big advocate of 'strutting your stuff' but, well, there is such a thing as being _too_ forward. In word and action.

To his credit, the lovely nephilim doesn't even seem tempted to glance at the various body parts currently being presented to him, doesn't really seem to be reacting to them at all.

_Hm, seems like his interest truly lies... elsewhere_, Magnus notes smugly to himself as he continues to watch the spectacle.

"I would love to take you home with me," the girl leaning against the barstool is purring, apparently entirely undeterred by the man's continued silence.

"And I'd _love_ to join in," the one still standing in the Shadowhunter's personal space adds on.

"As would I," the third one giggles. "How about it, hotness? Ever had a foursome?"

_Okay, yikes. _Magnus is honestly caught between wanting to cringe at the entire display and having to suppress his laughter at the almost comically bland expression now on the Shadowhunter's face. Everything about the man is practically _screaming_ the word 'unimpressed'.

"No, thanks," the nephilim finally just returns blandly, voice flat but tone firm, apparently can’t even be bothered to add anything else, no excuse, no reason, just simple unmistakable disinterest.

Although, something about the resigned blandness of his tone tells Magnus that this is likely not the first time this lovely man has dealt with a situation like this. And that he is also fully aware that actually getting rid of these three is likely to require more than just one simple rejection.

Because the three girls don't seem deterred in the least by his refusal.

Instead, one of them is already pouting coquettishly, "Awe, are you sure?"

Another one jumping in to purr, "I promise we'd show you a _great_ time." Well, at least she got the eyelash flutter down.

There is a brief pause as the Shadowhunter clearly waits whether they want to add more to their spiel before he simply repeats, "No, thanks," voice just as bland as before, even if there is also a certain measure of exasperation in his tone now.

"You wouldn't even have to do much," the first one just continues to wheedle, once more undeterred by the refusal, almost like the man never even spoke. "Just lie there and... _enjoy_."

_Alright, this is just cringey now._

The other two girls are wearing salacious smirks on their faces now, leaning in a little closer to the Shadowhunter, in another clear attempt to show off their ‘assets’ as one of them adds, "Yeah, we'd absolutely blow your mind." A lecherous giggle, a lewd grin, still that same hunger in their eyes as they keep staring at the man.

And Magnus is getting the definite impression that the Shadowhunter might be close to simply rolling his eyes at three of them in exasperation, clearly just as aware at this point that they are not planning to go away anytime soon, and not particularly amused at that fact.

Although...

Even in profile, Magnus can easily pick out the annoyance that is starting to bleed into the man's eyes at this point. It looks like the sort of irritation that might even make him simply decide to leave the club altogether in order to get rid of this lot.

Which, yeah, no.

As entertaining as this little train wreck of a situation may be to watch, Magnus so isn't risking these three ‘ladies’ driving the lovely Shadowhunter away before Magnus has had a chance to even talk to him. That's just not happening.

_So, why not do something about it?_ Magnus thinks to himself, feeling something mischievous curl at the corners of his lips as he finally moves to set his drink on the bar behind him, turning slightly in his seat. _If nothing else, it should serve as a rather excellent ice breaker for the two of us later on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a bit of background on Magnus' end and a glimpse at what actually happened during the Coalescence, though not the full explanation yet. I’m actually trying something new for the world-building, namely doing the explanation bit by bit in segments like this, instead of just in one huge chunk. You know, for variety :)
> 
> Also, this particular fic has me pretty pre-occupied at the moment (for some inexplicable reason it's this one out of all the various plot bunnies, don't ask me why) and I should have the next chapter done within the next one or two days, maybe? I'm honestly considering turning this into its own fic at this point...
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	16. Shift (author's note)

This is just a note to let you know that I’m turning ‘Shift’ into its own fic (though it will be called ‘Shifting realms’) as part 2 of the 'Tipping the scales' series. I’ve already added another chapter but decided to only post any new chapters in ‘Shifting realms’ from now on in order to avoid confusion.

And thank you all so so much for your lovely comments and all the support for turning this into its own fic! You guys are just awesome and I absolutely adore you all <3

(Also, I’ll probably be taking this author’s note chapter down again in a bit.)


	17. Twist (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Alec hadn't been able to reach Magnus to ask for his help during Izzy's trial? What if Clary and Jace didn't make it back in time to return the Mortal Cup? What if Alec decided to take the blame in Izzy's stead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Angst! Like, a lot of it. Just... be warned.
> 
> For the lovely **AnaBookWorm** who made me recall this particular plot bunny from way back, and which is now once more haunting me in all its angstiness.

Alec breathes out, briefly closes his eyes, tries to steel himself for what he is about to do.

His hands curl into fists as he opens his eyes again, focuses on the door in front of him.

The door to the Head of the Institute's office. The door to what used to be his father's office. The door that used to represent everything Alec was working towards in his life, his dream, his future.

And, now, he is about to lose it all, is about to give it all away. In order to protect Izzy.

But he has run out of time and he is simply out of options.

Because the High Inquisitor is about to announce Izzy's sentence.

He knows the sentence had already been decided on before Imogen ever came here, has possibly even been voted on by the High Council. He knows that Imogen only called this final, brief break in the proceedings to give Alec another chance to miraculously produce the Mortal Cup from _somewhere_. Which he absolutely would if he had a way to do just that.

But he already tried everything, everything he could think of.

He has no way of retrieving the Cup that Jace and Clary took from his safe, apparently with Izzy's help. And the betrayal of that still stings, still has something in Alec flinch back from the mere thought of it. He can't bear thinking about that at all right now.

And if they’d at least stopped at stealing the Cup, then Alec might even still have had a chance to _fix_ this, to stretch out the proceedings, to call in a couple of favors, appeal to the right kind of people, make the claim that his siblings had only been trying to protect the Mortal Cup itself from possible traitors or from ever getting into Valentine's hands.

However, his siblings _then_ decided to attack Meliorn's transport to Idris, chose to attack other Shadowhunters, to attack some of their _own_. That's treason, no matter how wonderfully righteous their reasons for doing so might have been. And it precludes Alec from fixing this, renders all the tools he usually uses to keep his siblings from ever having to feel the consequences of their actions useless.

Especially with Jace and Clary simply having disappeared to angel-knows-where, running away, hiding themselves away so damn cowardly that Alec has to push down the honest revulsion curling through him at the thought just what his recent actions say about his parabatai.

Who apparently cares so little that he clearly hadn’t even been alarmed when Alec made his desperation to find him really damn clear by even using their bond to try and track him. What does it say about their bond that Jace didn't even bother to at least call afterwards, to ask what's going on, to make sure nothing truly life-threatening is happening back home as a consequence of the destruction he left in his wake. His parabatai _has_ to know that Alec would only abuse their bond like that if he were honestly desperate.

Because Izzy is about to be deruned. And there is nothing Alec can do to stop it.

He even did as Izzy asked and went by Magnus' place to ask for the warlock's help in defending her in court, but for the first time since they met, Magnus hadn't been readily available to jump in and help, hadn't been at his apartment at all and even seems to have turned off his phone entirely. Quite possibly in direct reaction to Alec telling him that he decided to marry Lydia.

Angel, does Alec have regrets. About everything.

But mostly about ever letting Clary Fray into their lives. He still doesn't get his siblings' fascination with that girl and her constant lecturing about 'the right thing'. But still. Maybe if Alec had tried harder to push her to the sidelines, maybe called her out on her hypocrisy and double-standards, maybe if he had spoken up right away, maybe then all of this might not have happened.

_Maybe then, my parabatai wouldn't have decided to betray me, our bond, and everything we ever stood for._

Alec clenches his teeth.

The point is, with Magnus nowhere to be found, with no one on their side who is familiar enough with Clave laws to possibly delay the proceedings even the slightest bit further, Imogen managed to push the entire case through within mere hours. Her agenda is clear. The High Inquisitor came here to get the Mortal Cup and she won't have any compunctions in making an example out of Izzy for going against Clave orders, taking the Mortal Cup, and _attacking their own_, no matter her reasons.

And Alec simply cannot let that happen.

Because Izzy at least had simply been trying to protect someone dear to her, had been trying to protect Meliorn from the Clave, her concerns about what might happen to the seelie in Idris admittedly even rather legitimate, as much as Alec hadn't seen any other way than to follow the orders he had been given.

However, afterwards, Izzy had also _stayed_. Her betrayal of Alec's trust might still sting, but at least she is also still _here_, ready to face the consequences of her own actions. Sure, she might still be hoping that things might resolve themselves on their own, but even when it had become clear that Raj would rat her out, she had been unwilling to run away.

Alec can even admit he is proud of her for that.

Because that's simply what Lightwoods do. They follow their convictions and then deal with whatever the fallout may be.

Not that Alec is actually going to let her do anything of the sort.

He knows that Izzy will be furious with him when she finds out what he's about to do. But it also doesn't change anything. Alec was never going to let her pay for this and he is simply out of options.

Other than taking the blame himself.

Another deep breath as he makes himself uncurl his hands.

The door in front of him still seems like an insurmountable obstacle. Mostly because Alec _knows_ deep down, knows deep in his bones exactly what is going to happen once he does what he is currently planning.

He clenches his teeth, firms his resolve.

Because he has already done everything he could to try and fix this. And now, the only thing he can do to stop Imogen from deruning Izzy is to take the blame himself.

Whatever that may mean for him.

+++

It burns.

Down to his very soul.

All-encompassing and inescapable, a pain not physical in any way but still consuming him whole.

Alec keeps his face straight, watches blank-faced as his runes fade from his skin, fade right in front of his eyes, leaving his skin bare of the symbols that have marked his accomplishments ever since he was a child and received his first rune.

Still, he doesn't let anything show, keeps his face blank, not even a whisper of emotion, not a hint at the pain burning him _deepdeepdeepdown_.

He ignores Lydia's pale face, watching him wide-eyed from the other side of the room. He ignores Imogen, her features drawn into harsh lines and something almost like regret in her eyes. He ignores the guards by the door, staring with something almost like horror on their faces as they watch the deruning taking place in front of them.

He ignores them all.

Alec might not be a Shadowhunter anymore from this moment forward, but that doesn't change the fact that he has always been far too proud to ever let anyone witness his pain.

+++

Afterwards, Imogen tells him he has twenty-four hours to clean out his living quarters and remove himself from the Institute. Then, she leaves the room, commanding the guards to follow her out, apparently compassionate enough to give him a few moments to collect himself away from prying eyes.

As soon as she is gone, Alec lets himself sink into one of the chairs of the head office that he almost dreamed would one day be his.

"Alec," Lydia is immediately in front of him. A distraught sort of regret about her as she reaches out for him but then doesn't quite dare touching him, hands hovering above his skin instead. "I am so sorry. I never- I didn't- I _wouldn't_-," she trails off, eyes still wide.

He tries to shrug in vague response, but doesn't quite manage. Everything hurts.

"_Why_, Alec?" she asks distressed. "I _know_ it wasn't you. I know you had nothing to do with _any_ of it."

He just breathes in, once more glances around the office, but doesn't actually reply. He isn't sure he'd be able to speak quite yet.

"It wasn't _you_," Lydia insists, something harsh bleeding into her voice now. "It isn't fair for you to have to carry the burden of _their_ crimes." The inflection in that last bit comes out like a curse, like she is cursing Izzy and Jace and Clary to the deepest pits of hell.

And maybe she is right that his siblings should be the ones paying for their own mistakes.

However, it still changes nothing.

"She's my sister," he finally manages to say. Like that explains everything. Which it kind of does. He was never going to let Izzy be deruned, not as long as he was around to stop it. Even if it meant he'd have to pay that price himself.

He might have quite a number of regrets. But he doesn't think taking Izzy's punishment will ever be one of them.

And clearly Lydia can read as much on his face, watching him for another couple of seconds, before she finally straightens slightly. "What are you going to do now? Where are you going to go?" she then asks, clearly forcing herself to look past her emotions and instead try to see the situation pragmatically instead.

Alec just tries another shrug, still doesn't really manage. Moving hurts, speaking hurts, breathing hurts, just _being_ hurts. It's not even a physical pain, but rather like a sort of phantom pain, a piece of him missing, just gone, ripped away. Like the wound of that loss is now bleeding right there in the open, every movement, every slight brush of air against it painful all the way down to his very soul.

"I don't know," he finally says.

Because he doesn't. He has no friends, no acquaintances in the mundane world. He doesn't have a life aside from being a Shadowhunter. It's all he's ever been, all he's ever had.

And now even that is gone.

"I don't know," he repeats.

Because there is only one person outside of the Institute he knows who might not only have been _willing_ to help him but who Alec might also even have been willing to _ask_ for help at all.

But Alec already rejected him. Rejected him rather brutally, for the sake of his family and his career and serving the Clave.

_And look where that loyalty got me._

+++

Magnus breathes out softly as he steps through the portal from the Labyrinth back into his loft.

He had chosen to take a few days off, just a couple of days for himself, treat himself to some time amongst his immortal brethren, attend the two-hundred-fiftieth birthday party of one of his long-time friends. Just _something_ to take his mind off of Alexander, the Shadowhunter who has somehow managed to so successfully weasel his way past all of Magnus' defenses, made himself a space right in the middle of Magnus' so very squishy center, despite so very clearly not even trying.

Only to then decide to marry someone else.

Magnus heaves a sigh.

It’s not that Alexander’s rejection even really hurts as such, nothing even close to the pain of actual heartbreak. Because they simply haven't known each other for long enough, hadn’t yet gotten close enough for Magnus to truly have gotten to that point.

But the loss is still there, still feels like something he almost had was ripped away, a certain sort of hollowness having stretched through him as soon as Alexander announced he was getting married as much as Magnus had tried to play it off, a strange sort of ache that even now still lingers at the back of his mind.

Magnus thinks he is mostly mourning the potential of what they _could_ have been, the relationship they _might_ have had. Because something in him just _knows_ that the two of them would have been good together, great even, that they had a real shot at something beautiful, breathtaking, all-consuming. The kind of thing Magnus has been looking for his entire life.

He doesn't know why or even _how_ he got so ridiculously attached to the Shadowhunter in so short a time and despite them never even having really done anything. Just a night spent talking, helping each other to save various lives, sharing power, the immediate trust between them despite barely knowing each other. Not to even mention that rather instant attraction between them...

None of which changes the fact that Alexander then decided to propose to someone else. And as much as Magnus might wish for things to be different, the Shadowhunter also made his priorities perfectly clear. His family first, then his job, and nothing else even factoring into his decisions.

_Including his own sexuality, apparently_, Magnus thinks with a slight shake of his head.

Completely independent of his own feelings, Magnus still truly hopes that Alexander will not at any point regret choosing a life as the perfect Shadowhunter over any chance at being himself. Because that's a harsh regret to live with, and Alexander doesn't deserve anything but happiness in his life.

Magnus sighs again. _Yeah, getting Alexander out of my mind worked just wonderfully, didn't it_.

The, a sudden knock on his door is shaking him from his admittedly rather maudlin thoughts.

It's not a particularly strong knock, if anything even sounding a little careful, almost hesitant.

_Likely another client needing my services but not quite certain whether they should actually ask for it._

And Magnus almost wants to roll his eyes. He's been back for all of five minutes, hasn't even had time to check his phone for any calls he might have gotten in his absence. So, _of course_, there is already the first desperate soul knocking on his door to ask for his help.

He huffs slightly but is already moving to saunter over to his entrance anyway. He's never had the heart to send away those who actually make it to his door, seeking his help.

He throws his door open with a grand flourish. Only to be left blinking.

_Speak of the devil_.

Because standing in the hallway in front of his door is Alexander himself.

_Of course, he is_, Magnus thinks sardonically. _Magic forbid I be given the chance to actually get past my infatuation with him before the local Institute comes calling for my help once more. Honestly._

Magnus is already opening his mouth for some sort of greeting – admittedly, not necessarily the friendliest he has ever given either - even as he notes the way Alexander is staring absently off to the side, almost doesn't seem to have noticed him standing there yet.

Which, considering this Shadowhunter’s constant and uncompromising alertness, is actually rather odd.

And then, something catches Magnus' eye. He pauses, blinks, finds himself staring at the left side of Alexander's neck.

_What the..._ he frowns slightly. _Where is...?_

Another blink, and then his eyes are flying down to focus on the Shadowhunter's arms. He almost chokes.

_His runes are gone_, Magnus thinks incredulously. _But that can only mean..._

A second.

_No._ Horror spreads through him as he stares at the bare arms of one of the most capable, most compassionate, most unfailingly dedicated Shadowhunters he has met in his entire, immortal life.

"Alexander?" he finally asks softly, reaches out carefully, not quite sure whether touching would be a good idea or not. But with the Shadowhunter still not even seeming to have noticed him, still staring absently into the middle distance, he finally lets his hand settle softly against Alexander's upper arm.

The touch does finally bring the Shadowhunter out of his daze. Alexander glances up, blinks at him slowly, almost sluggishly, face utterly blank but his eyes fever-bright, the skin around them tight.

_From pain_, Magnus realizes. _The sort of pain that's physical but at the same time isn't, pain that's soul-deep, reaching all the way down to your very core._

There is silence between them for a couple of seconds.

Then, "They were going to punish Izzy for helping Jace take the Cup," is what the Shadowhunter finally comes out with, eyes on Magnus, even as he lets himself be softly guided inside the loft by the hand still lying against his arm.

It almost sounds like a sort-of explanation. Well, it _does_ actually explain quite a bit.

Magnus absently closes the door once he finally has the Shadowhunter in his apartment, mind whirling. He might have no clue just what went on in these past few days he was gone, but his mind is already working to quickly put the few puzzle pieces he has together into something of a full picture.

"So, you took the blame," Magnus finally fills in slowly.

Because, of course, he did. If there is one thing everyone knows about Alexander it's the fact that his siblings always come first for him, that he would never let either of them be harmed as long as he has a way to stop it. So, of course, Alexander would take the blame for his siblings’ transgressions, no matter what that might mean for him. Even if it meant losing his job, his home, everything he ever worked for. 

Magnus' conclusion gets him a slow nod, as Alexander finally fully focuses on him, something careful and searching and so uncharacteristically hesitant in his eyes it tugs at every single one of his heartstrings.

A pause. And then, finally, the softly spoken admission, "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

And damn if hearing Alexander sound so lost doesn't absolutely break Magnus' heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... like I warned at the beginning, this was rather angsty and strangely non-fluffy compared to my usual writing. I mean, if I add any more to this in the future, then Malec is still very much non-negotiable and they will definitely get their overly fluffy happiness as they always do in my fics. But still. 
> 
> Also, for this premise I'm simply assuming that Magnus never got around to stealing Alec's stele because of the whole I-proposed-to-someone-else revelation, making Magnus retreat to the Labyrinth to lick his wounds for a while before that whole thing ever went down. Because, for one, I absolutely hate that bit, still think it was ludicrously ooc for Magnus to agree to steal Alec's stele, and it would also complicate things even further in this fic. Thus, I decided that if this premise was going to remove Magnus from New York for a while so he'd be unavailable to help defend Izzy during her trial anyway, I might as well have him be gone long enough to remove from that whole stele-theft thing entirely. So, there.
> 
> Would love to know what you think :)


	18. Twist (part 2)

Jace can feel his hands shaking as he pushes the call button, desperately hoping that Izzy will pick up this time.

Unlike the first couple of times he tried to call her.

Unlike Alec whose phone just keeps going directly to voicemail.

In front of him, his father is watching him intently, Clary is wide-eyed beside him, and he can see Luke lingering only a couple of steps off to the side, clearly listening in as well. They were just on their way to find Valentine’s lair, the one his father had been certain he’d heard Valentine speak of and where Clary’s mom is apparently being held. Everything had seemed to just be falling into place suddenly.

But Jace can't care about any of it right now.

There is a hollow ache spreading through him, his entire being telling him that something is missing, that something _that was_ _still there_ _just a moment ago_ is suddenly gone.

The pain that had lanced through him, sharp and inescapable and all-consuming, had frozen the very air in his lungs, felt like his heart stopping and tearing in two all at once, an agony so overpowering it still has him slightly breathless from the shock of it even now. Before the pain had just as abruptly cut off, like a link breaking, a bond severed, the tie connecting him to the source of that pain simply gone.

And Jace had _known_ right away, hadn't actually needed to check his parabatai rune, had known it would be gone but still lifted his shirt _just to make sure_. Because the mere idea of losing his parabatai in any way still seems impossible, unfathomable, utterly laughable.

But still, he’d _known_.

Because there is suddenly a hollowness inside of him where his bond to Alec used to be, no calming echo to his heartbeat any longer, no life force humming in perfect synchrony right next to his own.

HIs call goes to voicemail, still no one picking up on the other end.

Jace feels his hand trying to curl into a fist, the phone creaking in his grip. He is getting desperate at this point, but he simply doesn’t have anyone else to call aside from Izzy and Alec. He knows any other Shadowhunter he might get in contact with at the Institute will promptly rat him out to the Clave. He burned all his bridges when he decided to take the Mortal Cup.

So, he hangs up the call, doesn't bother to leave yet another message, and instead immediately dials again.

He does his best not to focus at the little icon in the corner of the screen, the little number reminding him of all the calls that Jace has purposely ignored over the past few days. Most of which had been from his parabatai, and none of which Jace actually bothered to return.

“Jace,” Clary is speaking up from beside him, something careful in her voice. But he honestly can’t care about whatever she might have to say.

He doesn’t care about _anything_ right now. Nothing beyond Alec. His parabatai. His _brother_. Who isn’t _there_ anymore at the other end of their bond. And Jace simply can’t think about just what that might mean.

And finally, the line in his ear clicks and Jace releases a harsh breath of relief.

"Jace," Izzy answers, something harsh and forlorn and desperately angry in her voice.

"Wha-" he clears his throat. "What happened? My rune is- Izzy, I can't feel Alec anymore," he says, throat clogged, can hear the urgency and something frightfully pleading in his own voice, can't be bothered to keep his tone even. Because there aren't many ways to make a parabatai rune to fade, and not one of them is good.

At the other end, Izzy gives another harsh breath. It almost sounds like a sob.

And he simply feels himself stop breathing at the implications. _Oh, angel, no. _

Because Izzy doesn’t cry, not ever. Even back when they were still children, Jace never saw her cry, not even once. For her to do so now... He can't think beyond the_ pleasepleasepleaseno _running through his head, feels his own heart tearing itself clean into two. Because,_ Alec can't be dead. He **can't** be._

And then his world crashes in a completely different way, when Izzy finally answers his question, "They deruned him, Jace."

And Jace just finds himself staring at nothing, eyes wide, completely uncomprehending. Something joyful and desperately relieved rushing through him, because 'deruned' means 'not dead'. But what Izzy just said also makes no sense.

Alec is the most loyal, most dedicated Shadowhunter to ever live. Why would they derune _Alec_ of all people?

"Why woul-"

He doesn't get any further than that before Izzy is cutting in harshly, "Why do you _think_, Jace?" There is something unforgiving and dark and absolutely furious in her voice. "We broke the law. Several times over. Someone had to pay."

"But...," this time his voice dies in his throat. Because Alec had nothing to _do_ with what they did, they went behind his back, _stole_ from him, broke his _trust_ to get around him and his conviction to follow the Clave’s laws.

Izzy's laughter at the other end of the line is harsh and angry and accusing. "_But what_? You didn't honestly expect Alec to let either of _us_ be the ones to pay the price, did you?"

And Jace almost flinches, a sharp pain lancing through him, chest constricting. He closes his eyes, suddenly it’s difficult to even breathe.

Because, in all honesty?

No, Jace had never expected to actually have to pay a price of any sort for going up against the Clave. It's not like he or Izzy ever had to before.

Because Alec always made perfectly sure they wouldn’t have to.

* * *

Magnus makes his way across the lawn towards the Institute, the old church towering in front of him.

There is a sort of furious anger simmering just beneath his skin, the sort of fury he hasn't felt in a long long time.

Fury at people’s willful ignorance and their willingness to risk others’ futures for their own agenda while far too cowardly to actually stand _up_ and stand _for_ their own beliefs, to the price for their convictions.

Fury at the Clave and its power games, once more costing someone so much, while they gained absolutely nothing, didn't even punish those who might actually have deserved it.

Fury at having to once more watch someone dear to him get hurt to serve as a cautionary tale, a deterrent to anyone who might ever dare go up against existing power structures.

Magnus has always hated the Clave’s hypocrisy, their self-serving ideals, their bigoted double-standards, has hated the phrase 'the law is hard but it is the law' ever since he first came in contact with it. Even centuries later, it still makes him want to shake his head in resigned exasperation. The absurdity of creating laws and then calling yourself _righteous_ for following those same laws you yourself created.

It’s the same thing he’s heard them bandy about for centuries now, and it seems the Clave has still not learned any sort of lesson from previous mistakes, so convinced of their own angel-given virtuousness they have forgotten that being lawfully righteous and actually being _right _or_ just_ are very different things.

Magnus feels his lips twist into something harsh and angry, honestly wants nothing more than to tear the church in front of him down to its very foundations in his fury.

Alas, he isn't here to make his absolute displeasure with everything the Clave stands for known. No, he is simply stopping by the Institute to pick up Alexander's stuff.

Alexander who is currently asleep on the couch in Magnus’ living room. Alexander who apparently came to seek him out almost immediately after having been deruned, apparently at Lydia’s insistence he should leave the packing of his stuff to her and get out of the Institute before word of his deruning got out and he’d have to deal with everyone’s reaction to it.

Magnus thinks it’s rather incredible Alexander managed to make it all the way to his loft at all. Because by the time Magnus had gotten him from the entrance over to his couch, Alexander had more or less been collapsing into himself, so very clearly just simply out of strength at that point, eyes slightly glazed, most likely still in pain from the deruning itself, his body and mind clearly fighting to adjust to the sudden changes of losing his runes.

So, Magnus had suggested he try to sleep a little, just rest for a while.

And let him just say, out of everything that happened ever since Magnus stepped through the portal from the Labyrinth, and despite the shock of Alexander having been deruned at all, it had still almost been _more_ unsettling to see him so pliable, all of his defenses down, taking Magnus’ suggestions without any comment, following his directions. Like protesting in any way would simply have taken more strength than he had.

Just the memory has pure anger running through Magnus.

Alexander hadn’t even bothered to try to make to his guest bedroom, before he had already been falling asleep right there on his couch. So, Magnus had magically widened his couch a little, conjured a blanket to settle over Alexander, cast a ward to keep his sleep restful and entirely free of dreams or anything else that might come to haunt him during his rest, hoping rather fiercely that some healing sleep will help Alexander fortify his defenses once more.

And once he’d done all that, Magnus had called Lydia. Because Alexander hadn’t even brought a bag. Meaning, all his stuff must still be at the Institute.

Lydia had seemed rather desperately relieved at hearing that Alexander had actually found somewhere to stay for the time being and then assured Magnus he’d have full access to Alexander’s quarters to get his stuff.

Apparently, Alexander has been given a grand total of twenty-four hours as a grace period to gather his stuff, his entire life, from his rooms. Before he’d simply be refused access to the Institute due to his new status as a mundane.

By magic, does Magnus hate the Clave. He knows they must be fully aware that a deruned Shadowhunter - by themselves and without anywhere to go - won’t be able to take anything but the mere essentials with them as they struggle to organize a new life for themselves in the mundane world. A twenty-four hour grace period is just another way for the Clave to appear magnanimous, while being anything but.

He approaches the entrance to the old church, lip curling at the sight of it, not at all feeling like interacting with any of the Shadowhunters on guard duty today.

Thankfully, Lydia is waiting for him by the entrance.

She doesn’t actually greet him beyond a slight nod, instead just turning around and leading the way towards the living quarters of the Institute. There is something so desperately angry about her, her every movement speaking of resentment and fury mixed into one. Although, there is also quite a bit of guilt around her as well, even if Magnus has no idea where it is coming from.

There is actually a sort of subdued atmosphere hanging around the entire Institute as they make their way through the halls, something morose and angry and accusing and definitely shocked. Like no one here can quite yet grasp what happened either.

Magnus still doesn’t actually know what exactly happened over the past couple of days he was at the Labyrinth for things to end so very disastrously.

But he’ll have time to figure out those things later. Right now, other things take precedent.

They reach Alexander’s quarters, and as soon as they are inside, the door closed behind them and shutting out anyone possibly trying to listen in, Lydia is turning towards him, "How is he?"

"Sleeping, for now," he replies, hands already twirling, his magic jumping to do his bidding, gathering anything from the room around him not quite nailed down.

He so absolutely doesn't care whether there are any sort of restrictions on what a Shadowhunter is allowed to take with them after their deruning, doesn’t care if he is taking things that actually belong to the Clave, or whether there are things deruned Shadowhunters aren’t allowed to possess at all.

Things like adamas weapons, Alexander’s seraph blade, his bow, or even his stele, or like the many rather ancient looking tomes on the shelves.

Magnus tilts his head slightly in thought, then just shrugs internally before he lets his magic go another step further, lets it take quite literally _everything_ within the walls of Alexander’s chambers. Including the furniture.

Better he take too much than unintentionally leaving something behind that Alexander might miss at some point. The Clave will just have to deal with having to refurnish this room. Magnus would really like to see them come around his loft and try to complain about it to him.

And beside him, Lydia is just watching, doesn’t say a single word as the room empties itself, items shrinking down, gathering into neat little packages only to then disappear into the temporary pocket dimension Magnus has created for just this purpose and that he can give Alexander access to later, whenever he feels ready to sort through his things.

"I'm not going to tell anyone where to find him," she finally speaks up again, something harsh in her voice.

Magnus hums vaguely. "They will guess," he says. Because, well, his presence here does make his involvement rather obvious.

"They will," she nods. "And I will _still_ claim that you only helped him get away, even if he does actually end up staying with you. Until Alec himself tells me he wants people to know, no one is getting _anything_ from me."

Magnus quirks a bit of a smile at that. “Hm,” he hums in agreement. “You know what? Now that you mention it, I might just recast the wards around my place to make it once more inaccessible to... anyone who might no longer be welcome.”

Her lips curve into a grimly approving smile at that, anger curling at its edges, even as her eyes remain sad, narrowed with a resentful sort of devastated fury, the guilt in her ever-present.

But Magnus still doesn’t ask her about what actually happened. His own need to know or not, he is determined to let Alexander tell him whatever he wants Magnus to know. Alexander has already lost more today than one person should be made to bear and Magnus quite simply will not add to that, even if it’s just something as small as letting him choose exactly what to tell him about whatever happened.

There is another stretch of silence between them as the last few things empty themselves into the pocket dimension.

"He broke off our engagement before he left," Lydia finally speaks up softly, voice quiet, tone honestly sad.

Magnus glances at her.

"I know there wasn't a really a choice, know that he would never have agreed to let me carry the consequences of his decisions as well." She pauses, the silence between them stretching once more. "I truly did want to marry him, you know?" she finally asks softly, pure regret now in her voice. "He understood that I would have never been able to love him like I did my first husband. Just as I understood that he would never have been able to truly love me either."

Magnus watches her. Even before this entire mess and despite his own feelings on the matter, he had still gotten the sense that both Lydia and Alexander had been fully aware just what sort of arrangement they were agreeing to. A marriage not necessarily of love but still one of devotion. Magnus can even respect that as much as he thought it was a mistake.

Lydia continues softly, "I think that's why he ever even proposed to me. Because he knew neither of us would be waiting around for the other one to fall in love with us." She glances at Magnus, something fierce in her eyes, "But I know we would have given everything _else_ to each other, everything we _could_." Another pause. "I would have loved to be married to my best friend," she finally finishes quietly.

Magnus absently notes the pocket dimension closing, the last items having sorted themselves away, the rooms around them now entirely bare, only blank stone remaining.

He reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "He can still be your best friend, married to you or not," he says softly. "Even if he chooses to leave the city altogether, nothing is stopping the two of you from being friends."

Because Magnus will be damned if he lets the Clave take even more from Alexander than they already have. Even if it is just a single one of his friendships.

She blinks, once, twice. And then, he watches that same determination she always seems carry around herself finally bleed back into her eyes. "You're right," she nods, posture straightening, mind apparently made up. "And you should likely be prepared for the various Shadowhunters who’ll be showing up at your door, barging inside with demands to see him."

Magnus scoffs in utter condescension at the idea. "Oh, let them try. Some of my wards have teeth, rather sharp ones at that." He knows his current smile in anything but friendly. Then, he shrugs. "And I can always just relocate my apartment entirely if they get too persistent."

The grin on Lydia's face is fierce and approving, vengeful almost, something barbed and unforgiving lighting her eyes. Magnus is certainly starting to suspect that life at the New York Institute is going to be quite a bit less comfortable for certain Shadowhunters in the future, that even the Clave might end up feeling some of Lydia Branwell’s utter displeasure at just how events played out here today.

Well, there is a reason Magnus has always quite liked her.

Because the look in her eyes right now perfectly mirrors the resentfully ruthless anger currently simmering just beneath his own skin, an anger only sharply spiking whenever he so much as thinks of Alexander, currently asleep on the couch at _Magnus'_ _loft_. Simply because - after an entire of life of pure dedication to the Clave and their ideals, a life of service rewarded by them deciding to then take it all from him - Alexander had nowhere else to go.

Yeah, Magnus would actually be more than happy to help Lydia in making sure that the fallout of the Clave's decision to use their harshest punishment on one of their most dedicated soldiers - someone entirely innocent of any crime against the very laws they claim to uphold - will be felt all the way to the very top.

Oh, would he ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just some reactions in this chapter and actually my first attempt at writing Jace’s POV, so feedback is absolutely welcome :) And next chapter will finally focus on Magnus and Alec a little more.
> 
> Also, I can’t seem to find anything on how the whole deruning thing works in canon, neither during the deruning itself nor afterwards. I mean, I can always come up with my own explanations, but if anyone is up to sharing their canon knowledge, I’d absolutely love some input on that?
> 
> And thank you all for the amazing response to the first chapter of this. I honestly hadn’t expected that sort of reaction at all and it promptly made me want to continue this particular premise <3
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	19. Focus (part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ritual. (Or not.)

Magnus keeps the frown off his face, though he can’t help but wonder exactly what is going on between the two parabatai to his right.

Everything seemed fine between them back in his living room, same for when they were looking at Clarissa’s admittedly impressive drawing.

But something seems to have happened in those brief couple of moments where Magnus wasn't looking, focused on faux-casually checking every minute detail of the pentagram to make sure there are no mistakes. Pretty colors aside, containing one of the Greater Demons is no mean feat, and Magnus might be rather powerful himself but he simply won’t stand a chance against Valak if he has to work off a faulty pentagram. And setting a Greater Demon loose in New York most certainly isn’t on his agenda for today.

However, in those brief few seconds where he had been distracted, something seems to have happened between the two parabatai. Rather obviously, actually.

Obviously enough that not only Isabelle but also Clarissa are now glancing between Alexander and Jace, clearly wondering just what is going on as well.

And Alexander himself seems to be almost scowling, expression ever-darkening, even as he determinedly stares ahead across the pentagram, ignoring the staring from the other three Shadowhunters in the room.

Although… Well, based on what he observed of their dynamic earlier, Magnus can certainly still make an educated guess as to just what might be going on between them. It’s not like he hasn’t seen this before. Countless times. On himself and on others.

Unrequited feelings. On Alexander’s end.

Of course, he doesn’t know these two Shadowhunters nearly well enough to be certain whether it's unrequited feelings of the romantic sort or of a different kind, but the underlying problem is rather obvious.

Although, for Alexander's sake, Magnus can’t help but almost hope that it is in fact romantic feelings, as counterintuitive as that may seem to most people. But for the sake of Alexander's heart he can only hope that it's just a crush, infatuation with the person he trusted enough to make him his parabatai, enough to bind his literal soul to, enough to make him the second half of himself.

Because letting go of a crush is so much easier than having to deal with the agony of something like unrequited devotion, of realizing that someone you would do _anything_ for would not do the same for you.

People who think that simple heartbreak is the worst pain out there, have never experienced the soul-crushing desolation of trusting another person - whether lover, or friend, or family - so much that you'd anchor your entire existence in theirs, only to find yourself a hollowed-out shell when they prove themselves not deserving of that trust at all.

Magnus would know.

As much as love and devotion absolutely go hand-in-hand for him, he has long since learned that it’s not necessarily the case for others. Over the years, he has given his heart too often, has given _all of himself_ too often, and it took him literal centuries to finally learn, to finally lock his heart away, to protect himself, simply uncertain whether he might be able to make it through yet another heartbreak.

Magnus has loved often in his life, possibly even too often. But he has yet to find someone who’d be willing to return his particular brand of unquestioning devotion in equal measure.

He still dreams of a day where he might.

+++

Alec is angry.

He doesn't even know _why_ this entire situation is pissing him off so effectively.

Well, that's a lie. He knows exactly why he is so angry.

Just as he knows that this anger has been simmering just beneath the surface for several days now. Ever since one Clary Fray walked into their lives and started ripping things apart while his sister and his parabatai follow her blindly from one utterly moronic stunt to the next.

And he's kept mostly silent, tried to keep his less than generous thoughts to himself. Even more so since the one time he actually did speak up, Alec was told rather unmistakably that his opinion simply doesn't count any longer, at least not when pitted against hers.

His teeth clench at the mere memory of it.

So, this simmering sort of anger has been waging with the cutting sort of disappointment within him for days now.

And it appears, the anger finally won out.

Something about the combination of his siblings completely disregarding anything he might have to say, their self-righteousness whenever they go about tearing through yet another rule or step on yet another law, their complete disregard of everything that is important to Alec, his values and convictions, formed over years of struggling with the Clave's directives, but suddenly to be ignored for no other reason than because some mundane-raised girl, who they've known for less than a week, _said so_...

And then there is the way Izzy and Jace have been reacting to Magnus' blatant interest in Alec - their offended surprise mixed with amused incredulity – which does really seem negligible in comparison. But it’s somehow still the last straw.

And now, Alec is angry. Finally simply _angry_, instead of hurt and confused and disappointed at finding himself and everything he stands for so easily discarded by those closest to him.

He narrows his eyes, his teeth clenching.

Well, he much prefers anger over any of those other emotions anyway.

+++

Magnus watches the group around him, honestly tempted to just sigh in exasperation at this point.

They are about to summon a Greater Demon and should very much be focused solely on _that_.

However, instead the Shadowhunters seem to be rather collectively distracted.

The only one between them who seems to be actively keeping his focus on the task at hand is Alexander, who is simply staring stoically ahead at the pentagram in their middle, only his eyes giving away the anger apparently brewing inside of him, but at least clearly able and willing to put his personal issues aside in order to get this done.

The others, however... Honestly, not so much.

Jace is frowning at Alexander now, his expression one of confusion and something more than a little agitated, especially whenever he throws a scowl Magnus’ way, as though somehow blaming him for his parabatai’s current bad mood.

Isabelle seems actually worried about Alexander, something about his reactions apparently alarming or at the very least unsettling to her, as she continuously tries to catch her brother’s eyes. Unsuccessfully so.

And Clarissa is by now full-on glaring at Alexander across the pentagram, her eyes continuing to dart between the two parabatai, rather clearly less-than-enthused about Jace’s attention having entirely diverted itself towards Alexander instead of her.

Magnus almost wants to roll his eyes at it all.

_Gods of old, save us from teenage drama._

The entire situation would be almost amusing.

_Amusing_ because earlier, when Magnus had been flirting with Alexander, the others had reacted with such utter surprise at the mere idea of him being focused on Alexander instead of any of them. But now, this right here, makes it more than obvious just who the true center of their group is, the steadying force, the one they all – aware of it or not – circle around, rely on to be their stabilizing center.

Well, the situation _would_ be amusing. If there weren’t also the ritual to consider.

Because they are about to summon one of the Greater Demons.

And that’s something Magnus most certainly isn’t about to do while having to rely on a group of distracted children, who are collectively clearly more worried about their group dynamics than about keeping a powerful demon contained.

Well, that seems to be the case for most of them, at least.

Because Alexander’s hand is still firmly holding on to Magnus’ own, weapon-calloused fingers curling warmly around his, his grip steady and unwavering. If anything, he seems to be _more_ focused on the task in front of him, clearly having decided to put his personal issues aside for the time being and deal with them later.

Seeing that he is also clearly at the very center of everyone _else’s_ distraction, Alexander’s absolute focus on the task at hand makes the contrast between the Shadowhunters even more apparent.

Which doesn’t change the fact that Magnus simply isn’t going to risk letting Valak loose in New York City just because of some teenage drama distracting those who requested the summoning in the first place.

If more than half of the participants can’t be bothered to put their personal issues aside for the moment, then Magnus quite honestly has more important things to deal with. Like preparing the burial rites for so many of his friends and acquaintances who he lost today.

So, no. He is not going to summon Valak. Not under these circumstances.

His only regret is that – by stopping the ritual now – he’ll have to let go of Alexander’s hand. Warm and broad and fingers curling around his, the grip firm but somehow still gentle.

Magnus heaves a sigh.

Alas, nothing for it. He can only hope that he might get really lucky in the future and possibly get another chance at this. Although, hopefully without the audience then.

+++

Alec watches the argument happening in front of him.

He can admit that he himself had also been pretty surprised when Magnus had suddenly called off the ritual before they even got started. Because, _apparently_, ‘some’ of the participants are simply too distracted by their own drama for the warlock to want to rely on them during the summoning.

Which of course now has Clary up in arms about not getting her memories as expected.

"Those are my memories!" she exclaims. "You have no right to keep them from me."

"Well, no," Magnus raises his eyebrow in casual agreement. "And I’ll be happy to help you get them back. Once you have your issued settled." He seems rather done with catering to the temper tantrums of a teenager at this point as he shrugs, “Until then, I cannot help you.”

Clary clenches her teeth. “Then I’ll just find someone else to call this Valak for me.”

Alec almost heaves a sigh in exasperation, so very annoyed but also utterly unsurprised by her reaction to anyone daring to tell her ‘no’. Really, like a child throwing a tantrum.

But before he can speak up to say anything, Magnus is letting out a brief, honestly amused sounding laugh, “Oh, biscuit, you can most certainly try.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” she almost hisses in offense.

“It means that I am the High Warlock of this city for a reason,” Magnus smiles, but there is suddenly something rather serious in his eyes as he focuses on her. “There is no one in New York, no one on the _entire East Coast_, possibly not even in the country, who’ll have even the remotest chance at so much as powering a summoning circle for one of the Greater Demons, never mind keeping the demon contained.” The warlock huffs another laugh, an honestly amused chuckle in his voice, “Oh dear, now that would be utter mayhem if just _anyone_ could call a Greater Demon to do their bidding.”

Clary is staring at him now. But even she can apparently tell that there is nothing bragging, no false bravado about Magnus’ claim. It’s stated as a fact.

Which is just...

Alec swallows slightly at the reminder of just how powerful Magnus must be for him to hold the position of High Warlock in a city like New York.

And if a summoning like this one really requires that much power, what does it say about Magnus himself for the man to not only be _able_ to do it at all, but also that he hadn't even needed the slightest bit of preparation beforehand, no strengthening potions, no power-focusing chants. Nothing beyond handing Clary the pentagram she had to draw, telling them all to hold hands, and then apparently just having the required power for the summoning simply at-the-ready...

He swallows again, glad that they are all currently focused on Magnus, so no one will be able to call him out for staring rather helplessly at the warlock right now.

Then, Magnus is actually turning towards him, focuses on Alec as he adds on, "And I really do mean that. Usually, even the more self-important warlocks know better than to attempt a summoning of a demon like Valak. But with the right incentive..." He shrugs. It's clear that Magnus is honestly trying to caution them against taking just any warlock at their word about being able to perform this summoning.

Alec nods, grateful for the warning. He might have been willing to just go along with his siblings' harebrained ideas so far, but he definitely draws a line at potentially setting a Greater Demon loose in their city.

However, Jace is apparently less than pleased at all of this, a scowl on his face as he glances between him and Magnus – whether he is actually angry at his apparent agreement or at Magnus’ general refusal to perform the summoning, Alec isn’t even entirely sure – before he steps forward to reach Alec’s side, voice going rather confrontational as he states, "Clary needs her memories to find her mother."

Alec honestly doesn’t know what his problem is.

Jace’s recent willingness to run blindly into situations without any clue as to what is going on aside, his parabatai is also usually more careful about pissing off ridiculously powerful Downworlders for no apparent reason. And Izzy, who is usually the mitigating force between them, is just standing off to the side, observing everything that’s going on, something almost like amusement in her eyes as she watches Jace.

The entire situation just makes Alec want to sigh. _By the angel, what is **wrong** with my siblings recently_, he thinks in utter exasperation.

Magnus, however, seems rather unbothered by it all, barely glancing at Jace as he gives a slight shrug. "And, like I said, I'd be happy to help her get them back. But I won't attempt the summoning without knowing no one is going to bail in the middle of it. It's a risk I’m simply not willing to take."

"None of us would bail," Jace scoffs darkly.

"Are you sure of that?" Magnus asks. And while his tone remains friendly, Alec is getting the definite impression that the warlock is finally reaching the end of his patience with their group, something the slightest bit exasperated starting to bleed into his voice. "Are you sure enough that you'd risk the safety of the entire city based on that conviction? Despite the fact that just minutes ago all of you seemed more busy glaring at each other than actually focusing on the summoning circle in front of you?"

Jace blinks, clearly surprised by being called out like that, even as Alec can’t help but wince in slight embarrassment. Because as much as his parabatai might be trying to deny it now, Magnus is also right. They had all been distracted for various reasons right when they were also about to summon the demon. Alec himself very much included.

"If you really want to get this done as quickly as possible," Magnus finally adds on with a sigh. "Then, either come back after you get your issues sorted or make this an official commission of my services, so I can get a group of warlocks to help with the ritual instead. Although, do keep in mind that while I fully intend to repay my debt for your aid during the Circle's attack, if I do involve other warlocks, they'll want to be paid for taking on a Greater Demon. They'll want to be paid _generously_."

And suddenly, nothing about this is amusing any longer.

Alec feels something cold wash over him at the reminder of the earlier attack, the attack by the Circle that had _coincidentally _happened right at the same time when they had just succeeded in drawing the High Warlock away to a different part of the city, away from the warlocks apparently relying on his protection, the attack that had cost so many warlocks their lives.

There had been so many bodies earlier. Warlocks, young and old, strewn across the room, their marks brutally cut from their skin, golden scales and colorful feathers and shimmering claws set aside like trophies.

And in the whole mess around the summoning ritual, Alec had kind of just forgotten about it.

_Good going, Alec_, he thinks self-deprecatingly, something somber and honestly somewhat ashamed curling through him at the thought that he needed to be reminded of the earlier tragedy at all.

He fluidly steps forward, throws Jace a glance that tells him to back off. His sudden interjection gets him yet another frown, almost a scowl, from his parabatai, as he once more glances between Alec and Magnus.

But right now, Alec honestly can't be bothered to figure out just what has his parabatai in such a snit currently. Though, going by recent event, Alec is just going to guess it has something to do with one Clary Fray and Jace's apparent determination to bend the entire world to her every whim.

Alec narrows his eyes at him, makes it perfectly clear without words just how done he is with catering to the two of them for today. Not to even mention that Magnus already refused to do the ritual, saying it's too risky, and Alec very much draws the line at trying to pressure their city's High Warlock into anything. An idea which in itself is just plain laughable.

Finally, Jace scowls at him darkly, but then does move a few steps to the side, where Clary and Izzy are lingering.

Alec promptly turns back towards Magnus, who is already focused on him. "Is there anything we can do to help?” he asks quietly, doesn’t bother to pretend Magnus’ last comment hadn't finally reminded him of the earlier attack.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Izzy frown slightly, clearly hearing enough of the question to wonder what Alec is talking about. Same for Jace.

Magnus himself just raises an eyebrow in obvious question but doesn't actually say anything, clearly just waiting for him to elaborate.

“With the…,” Alec momentarily struggles to find something not quite as cold as ‘bodies’ or ‘dead warlocks’ and finally settles on, “With the victims of the Circle’s attack?” He really can’t think of a better way to phrase it.

He absently notes Izzy actually giving a wince at that, while Jace is suddenly looking rather uncomfortable, all that mulish insistence on Clary’s behalf and how they should still do the ritual now gone from his face. Seems like Alec wasn’t the only one to simply _forget_ about all the lives lost such a short time ago.

Magnus blinks at him. Then, the smallest smile – sad but still genuine – is curving his lips. “Thank you for the offer, Alexander,” he says. “But I will be calling the families of the deceased and they’ll arrive here shortly. And I fear, finding themselves in the company of Shadowhunters right now will make grieving only harder for them.”

Alec hears the ‘because it was Shadowhunters who killed their loved ones, proclaimed differing loyalties or not’ without it being said out loud. He more than understands.

So, he just nods. “Thank you for still trying to help us then,” he adds. Because even if they have to postpone the ritual, even if his siblings are now - rather embarrassingly - acting as though Magnus' refusal to perform the summoning at their say-so were some sort of grave personal offense, Magnus clearly _did_ attempt to help.

Magnus just gives a nod, though his focus on Alec is still rather intent, gaze on him unwavering, the look in his eyes open but very much assessing as well. Still, for some reason Alec doesn't find the rather intense regard uncomfortable in any way. For reasons that he is not going to contemplate right now.

Finally, Magnus sighs slightly. “If it helps at all, feel free to tell the Clave that New York's warlocks called for your help when we were under attack from the Circle.”

Alec blinks. _Oh. That would actually_…

“That would actually help a lot,” he says. It really would. Because if he can claim that they had been _asked_ for their help, hadn't just run off on some rough-shod, self-assigned mission, it would make their interference in Downworlder business an emergency and thus mean they wouldn’t have been required to get mission approval from the Clave beforehand.

Which is actually going to solve quite a number of Alec’s problems in one go.

“Thank you,” he adds on sincerely, truly means it.

And he also can’t help but note to himself, how Magnus – even while so clearly grieving for the friends he so recently lost – somehow has enough consideration for others he is still trying to make _Alec’s_ life easier.

_Angel, what does this say about his compassion for him to still be so_… Alec honestly can’t think of a word to describe Magnus’ apparent compassion for others, even while not having received anything of the sort from them in return.

His honest thanks however gets him another small smile from the warlock. “You are welcome,” Magnus returns. Another brief pause. "It truly was a pleasure meeting you, Alexander," he then adds on.

Alec blinks, for some reason feeling a little taken off guard by that last statement.

But before he can actually say anything - which he might admittedly not actually managed, seeing as his mind seems to be rather blank at the moment, mostly focused on the warm smile curving Magnus' lips - the warlock is already turning away, moving to make his way towards the other rooms of his apartment. Rooms, where Alec suspects the bodies of the victims from the attack are settled, set aside until Magnus finished dealing with the Shadowhunters invading his flat.

Alec takes it as a rather clear cue to leave.

So, he turns as well, easily strides past his siblings still lingering just a couple of steps off to the side, gestures at them to move their asses. Admittedly, they are both looking rather subdued now, especially Izzy seeming almost shamefaced, most likely at having been caught out at so easily, carelessly, thoughtlessly pushing the deaths of so many warlocks aside, as they selfishly and single-mindedly only cared about getting closer to their own goal.

_Look at us, the shining paragons of Shadowhunter virtues, not caring the least about lost Downworlder lives,_ Alec thinks harshly sarcastic. _How **dare** anyone ever accuse the Clave of not being all that different from the Circle. Really, I have no idea where the Downworld might ever have gotten that impression from._

He clenches his teeth, swears to himself that he will do better next time.

And as he closes the door to Magnus’ apartment behind himself, he feels a slight frown cross his face, honestly considering whether there might be a way to repay Magnus even just for his _attempted_ help.

Because there is something else about this entire situation that seems to have gone ignored until now. Alec isn’t blind enough not to realize that it was their scheme of drawing Magnus away from the other warlocks that clearly enabled the Circle to attack their gathering, that the only way for Valentine to have known to time this attack just right is a leak on their end, that there is apparently a traitor at the Institute who must have passed the information along.

So, while not responsible for the attack, Alec and his siblings were most certainly a deciding factor in it, no matter whether they never intended anything of the sort. And Alec is absolutely certain that Magnus must be aware of the implications as well, the fact that they only helped fight off an attack that they themselves helped bring about. And Magnus _still_ tried to help them afterwards.

Alec ignores the slightly worried glances and somewhat confused frowns Jace and Izzy keep sending his way for whatever reason as they make their way out of the building onto the street, can’t be bothered to figure out what is going on with either of them at the moment. Instead, his mind remains focused on the warlock who still tried to help them despite most certainly having far more urgent and far more important things to take care of than their comparatively small problems.

The warlock with apparently boundless compassion and ridiculous amounts of power and a seemingly endless willingness to help.

Not to even mention, the absolute prettiest smile Alec has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in trying to make up my mind how I’d let this play out, I realized that I’ve now gone through pretty much all canon divergent variations of the ritual, from the summoning going exactly to plan all the way to the ritual never happening at all… Which only goes to show just how much this particular scene bugged me in canon for me to keep bringing it up XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	20. Twist (part 3)

When Alec wakes, it takes him a few seconds to catch up, to remember where he is or even what brought him here.

And in those first couple of seconds of confusedly blinking up at the almost-but-not-quite-unfamiliar ceiling, his mind still mostly blank and fuzzy from sleep, he simply forgets everything that happened. It's blissful.

But then, the ache still pulling at him - at every fiber of his being, lingering jolts of almost-pain running through him, the feeling of something _missing_ still unfading - brings the memories crashing back in full, a wave of loss so all-consuming it threatens to swallow him whole.

He breathes out harshly, clenches his teeth, closes his eyes for a second, two, before he opens them again.

He forces himself to push past it, makes himself sit up on Magnus' couch, the sight of the warlock's living room familiar enough that he doesn't need any additional time to orient himself.

His memory is crystal clear once more.

He remembers his siblings attacking Meliorn’s transport and Jace _leaving_ him, leaving him behind. Izzy’s arrest. Then, finding his safe empty, the realization of the sheer _depth_ of his siblings’ betrayal, _still_ desperately reaching out to Jace through their bond, expecting for Izzy’s future, her life, to at least be worth more to Jace than Clary’s agenda. Finding himself honestly floundering at failing to elicit _any_ sort of response from his parabatai despite Alec’s making his desperation pretty damn clear.

He closes his eyes against that thought.

He remembers trying to find Magnus to ask for the warlock’s help instead. Remembers failing at that, too. And finally, the farce of Izzy’s trial, the horrifying realization that her guilt _and_ her sentence were already predetermined before the trial even started, like ice in his veins. Doing the only thing he still could.

His own deruning, when he had found himself with no options other than to take the blame himself.

Phantom pains run through him at the mere memory of his runes burning themselves off his skin.

And then, he had come here. To Magnus place.

Right after the deruning, Lydia had suggested Alec just get out of the Institute, that he disappear before everyone found out about what happened, if only to avoid the pity and wide-eyed stares from the other Shadowhunters at the Institute. And right then, after just having lost his runes, still in pain and already floundering from the sudden change, simply getting away had been the only thing he wanted to do.

So, he'd left, somehow making it out of the Institute without anyone he ran into realizing the lack of runes on his skin, had found himself standing on the lawn stretching out in front of the church that has been the only home he has ever known but won't ever be again. And he'd been so lost, dazed, his body and mind still trying to work through the pain of the deruning itself, all the while also trying to adjust to the sudden loss of the runes’ effects that have sharpened his mind and strengthened his body for most of his life.

He remembers thinking about needing to go somewhere, somewhere to stop, to think, a place to stay and at least rest long enough to get his bearings again.

And without truly thinking about it, Alec had automatically found himself making his way to the one place aside from the Institute itself where he has ever felt welcome, the one place where he is always greeted with a smile.

He went to Magnus' loft.

Alec remembers his way here in sharp detail, mostly because making the trip at all had required such an incredible amount of focus, something about his mind trying to work through the confusion of all the sudden changes, and his body having to deal without the runes’ effects, had the time it took him to get from the Institute to Magnus' place stretch endlessly and pass within the blink of an eye at the same time.

And he remembers knocking on the door, uncertain whether the warlock would even answer, whether he would even be here at all, seeing as he very much hadn’t been the last time Alec tried to reach him.

But, then, the door had opened and Magnus had just been there, standing in the doorway.

And…

Alec doesn't really remember anything after that, maybe a few flashes of things here and there, but even those are fuzzy. Almost like his body and mind had decided to simply _give in_ the moment he came face to face with the warlock, whatever stubborn sort of strength having let him make his way here at all simply crumbling away in the warlock’s presence, at the knowledge that Magnus was there, the assurance of safety as soon as Magnus’ wards surrounded him.

He doesn't even remember coming inside, much less making it over to the couch, or then apparently even falling asleep on the spot. For all he knows, he might have just fainted at the door without any sort of explanation.

_Angel, I hope not_, Alec thinks, glancing around himself. This entire situation is already unsettling enough without adding something like that on top of it.

Although, there is an odd sort of déjà vu about finding himself waking on Magnus’ couch with no clear recollection of how he ended up here. Most likely because he's been here before.

Last time he'd been inside Magnus' loft, Alec had woken pretty much exactly like this.

Though, that time it had been morning, after an entire evening talking to Magnus, falling asleep after spending several hours focused solely on the warlock, having permitted himself just a few hours of seeing _what_ _it could be like_, if only he had the luxury of 'following his heart' as Izzy so likes to suggest he do.

Then, the morning had come. And Alec had more or less run away. Not because anything had actually been wrong, but rather because of the exact opposite.

Because that night of talking to Magnus and flirting - angel, had they flirted - and lighthearted conversation mixed with serious topics and Alec just letting himself have that one night of being nothing but entirely himself. It had been rather breathtakingly wonderful, had been _so much more_ than he had ever expected.

And Alec had regretted it immediately after. So much.

Because _before_ that night spent talking and flirting and just being with Magnus, Alec at least hadn't known what he was _missing_.

He’d really screwed himself there. So, he'd done the only thing he could, namely run away, back to the Institute, back to his job and his family and his duties and his seemingly endless responsibilities.

He had proposed to Lydia mere hours later, despite suddenly being even _more_ aware just what exactly he was giving up in turn.

An engagement he has now once more broken off. Because Alec isn't a Shadowhunter any longer and everything his engagement with Lydia had been based on, suddenly doesn’t exist anymore. His dream of running an Institute, suddenly an impossibility. And there is no way he would ever let someone else carry the burden of his own decisions, would never have dragged Lydia down with him by so much as trying to keep her bound to him.

So, yes, he’s been here before, has found himself waking right here on Magnus’ couch not long ago.

It’s been just three days, but so much has happened since then.

Nothing is the same anymore as it had been that night when Alec had come to Magnus' place to lend the warlock strength for healing Luke, the night he'd stayed at the loft even after everyone else had left, when Magnus had invited him to stay for a drink and some conversation. Which had turned into three drinks and entire night of talking. It had been before Alec went to see his mother, before she pushed all the right buttons to get him to agree to marrying for his family's sake, before he proposed to Lydia. Before he told Magnus he was marrying someone else.

Before his siblings broke his trust, went against everything he ever believed in.

And he isn't even referring to their actions against the Clave, honestly couldn't care less about that in the end. No, the thing Alec had always unshakably, immutably believed in, was the fact that no matter how much they might disagree on things, the three of them would always stick together, would always have each other's back, would never betray one another.

Until he'd been crouching next to his safe, fully intending to take out the Mortal Cup to trade it in exchange for Izzy's safety. Until the moment he realized that his safe was empty, that his siblings hadn't only gone against the Clave by attacking Meliorn's transport, but had already forsaken any sort of loyalty to him personally beforehand.

And the saddest part about that? Until that very moment, the thought that Izzy and Jace might have betrayed him in such a manner hadn't even _occurred_ to him.

He still doesn’t really know what to do with that realization even now.

Although in the end, when it truly came down to it, he still couldn't let his sister pay the price. Not if the price was that high. But just because his siblings aren't the sort of people Alec might have always thought they were, it changes nothing whatsoever about his own immutable stance on keeping them safe.

Family comes first. Unequivocally.

Well, _came_ first. Seeing as, by definition, Alec isn't a Lightwood any longer. Maybe still in name, but not in thought any longer. Not anymore. A deruned Shadowhunter is excommunicated from their society, by definition not a part of it anymore, might as well be deceased for all intents and purposes.

He closes his eyes.

The thought that he won't be able to protect his family any longer in any way that matters is what pains him most about all of this. Because, what's the point of sacrificing everything you ever worked for when you have no way of ensuring that your sacrifice will actually be worth it in the long run?

He honestly isn’t even all that worried about himself or what will happen to him, despite really having no idea yet just what he is going to do with his life from now on. Maybe it’s the shock still lingering in his bones or maybe it’s the certainty that he _will_ make it through this somehow, won’t accept any other outcome from himself. But either way, he doesn’t truly worry.

Sure, he knows he’ll flounder, possibly even panic at some point, honestly doesn’t even want to think about exactly what he is going to do now that he gave up everything he ever made of himself and his life, finds himself without any sort of foundation to build a _new_ life on.

Alec is a Lightwood first, a Shadowhunter second, and nothing else after that. He has never even known anything aside from hunting demons and keeping order in the Shadowworld. He dedicated his entire life to being the best Shadowhunter he could be, never let anything else even factor into his life decisions.

He has no idea what that makes him now that he is no longer either of those things.

But still, he isn’t truly worried about himself. This isn’t the first time he has sacrificed something of himself for the sake of his family, so he knows he’ll somehow make it through this as well. He always does.

So, the thing that pains him most about all of this is the thought that he himself will no longer be able to ensure that his family name is restored, that it is once more returned to what it should be, the embodiment of the true Shadowhunter way as he has always dreamed it to be.

But it is out of his hands now and as much as he wouldn’t change any of the decisions he made over the past twenty-four hours, the thought that it might all be for naught, might be rendered an utterly useless sacrifice depending on whatever happens with his family now that he is no longer around…

Because, if nothing else, the past few weeks have certainly shown him that his siblings can in fact not be relied on to carry the mantle of a true Lightwood in his stead.

And _that_, truly, pains him most.

+++

Magnus tries to focus on the shelves in front of him, tries to ignore his wards' pinging at him, alerting him of the fact that Alexander is awake, has been for almost twenty minutes now.

Still, he makes himself stay in his study, tries to focus on his honestly-not-all-that-important task of doing inventory of his potions ingredients.

As much as he'd like to immediately seek Alexander out, to ask him how he is doing, whether he is in pain, whether he needs anything, whether he'd like something to eat or to drink, what his favorite color is and whether it'll make him more likely to actually stay here for longer if Magnus were to change the wallpaper in his guest bedroom to match...

But Magnus knows he needs to give Alexander a little bit of time to himself, to sort through things, through his thoughts, through the events of just a few hours ago, a chance to at least come to grips with everything, the realization of how much his life has changed and will change from here on out.

Thus, Magnus is doing inventory. Or at the very least trying to. Despite having completed his last inventory just three days ago after the whole thing with healing Luke.

But he needs _something_ to do and he doubts he'd have the focus for actually brewing anything right now. Better stick to just basic counting right now and leave the complex, intricate magics for another time, a time when he can focus on anything besides the nephilim currently in his living room.

Yeah.

Magic, he is just so incredibly worried about Alexander.

It's been almost nine hours since the nephilim appeared in his doorway and by now Magnus has already burned through his more volatile sort of anger, left with only the seething sort of fury simmering at the back of his mind, entirely overshadowed by the overpowering worry he feels.

Sure, he knows that Alexander is strong, that he'll make it through this somehow. The question is just _how_ and _how well_. And where that path is ultimately going to lead him.

Then again, that's what Magnus is here for. He'll do his damn best to make sure that Alexander finds something else deserving of his time and endless dedication, something with just as much inherent worth and virtue and value as the life he gave up for someone else’s sake.

Well, if Alexander lets him and doesn't decide he might just want to do everything on his own.

Which - as much as he may hope the nephilim won’t choose to go at it entirely alone - is still absolutely Alexander’s choice to make and no matter how much Magnus wants to help, he refuses to even interfere much less to put his own wishes above Alexander’s in this.

It's also for that very same reason that Magnus decided to activate some of the more potent wards around his loft. Wards that will make his apartment not only inaccessible to absolutely everyone not already inside, but that will also make people entirely forget where it is even located.

Sure, anyone who has been here before will be able to perfectly remember the _inside_ of his apartment, but no one whatsoever will be able to recall where to find it. They wouldn’t see it, even if they were to stand directly in front of his door.

Such is the power of olden magics.

It’s one of the more archaic ward sets in his arsenal, wards that most warlocks have forgotten even exist, mostly because they require quite a bit of power not only to cast but even more to maintain. It's a constant drain on his magic, not too noticeable but still enough that he won’t be able to keep it up indefinitely. But he can at least give Alexander a couple of hours without anyone able to get anywhere near him, no disturbances, just a few hours to rest, to get his bearings, to maybe even decide what to do with himself now, if only for the immediate future of the next couple of days.

Well, he is honestly hoping that Alexander is going to stay here with him at least until he finds his feet again. Magnus’ apparently-not-entirely-welcomed-infatuation aside, he still wants Alexander to stay here. Wants him to _want_ to stay here.

In his _guest_ bedroom, mind. But still.

But as far as Magnus is concerned, Alexander is welcome to stay here for however long he wants or needs, no strings of any sort attached.

Which brings him back to the main reason why he is currently debating with himself whether he should be making an appearance in his living room soon or entirely leave Alexander be for now.

Because Magnus does want to give him some time to think things through, to come to grips with the many changes ahead of him. But not enough time for Alexander to start doubting his welcome here, much less to mentally argue himself into some sort of corner.

_Hm, maybe I could just stroll over to the kitchen_, Magnus thinks. _Putter around a little there, make my presence in the loft apparent in case Alexander _is_ feeling up to some human interaction. _

And if he isn’t yet, it leaves Alexander free to stay where he is and avoid making his newly awake state known at all.

_That’s a good medium, right?_ Magnus tilts his head in thought, brow slightly furrowed.

Then, he pauses, before sighing with a slight eye roll at his own overthinking.

Alexander might be in a bit of a problematic situation right now, might have found himself in the - for him so unusual - position of needing someone else’s help, but that also in no way means he has suddenly turned fragile or anything of the sort. Alexander has always been perfectly able to make his own opinions and sensibilities known to everyone around him, mostly just by scowling silently at whoever dares to trespass across any of his boundaries.

And this truly isn't the first time Magnus has helped people through losses, has lived through enough of them himself to know that while loss can take many difference forms, the process of getting _through_ it is always rather similar. And he knows from experience that there is nothing quite as exhausting as having to reassure other people that you are perfectly fine for _their_ peace of mind, nothing quite as aggravating at people treating you as though you were suddenly oh-so-very-fragile, or – worst of all – even being forced to turn your loss into your entire identity if only because it's the only thing other people will acknowledge about you any longer in their well-intended attempts to help you through it.

All the while _the one thing_ you are desperately grasping for is a sense of normalcy, no matter which form it might take.

So, Magnus is determined to give Alexander that. At least as much as he is able to, considering that Alexander didn't just lose _one_ particular thing, but instead lost everything of the life he had built for himself. Still, he will do his best to make this a place for Alexander to retreat to, a place where his loss and the inherent struggles are acknowledged, but only ever made a topic whenever he himself wishes to.

Alexander _deserves_ to have a safe place, somewhere to be exactly whoever he chooses to be in whatever new future he decides to build for himself.

And _that_ is something Magnus will always be more than happy to be for him, to provide for him.

For however long Alexander may need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like I said, a Magnus and Alec chapter this time, even if no actual malec yet. But this should at least give you an idea of how the two of them are going to generally handle things. Though, I certainly hadn’t planned an entirely introspective chapter… Oh well XD Next chapter will have the two of them actually interacting :D
> 
> And due to popular demand (because you are all awesome and keep leaving such wonderful comments <3), I’m now considering whether to turn this into its own fic. Problem is, I still don’t entirely know what I would do with this particular premise. Not at all due to a lack of ideas but rather because it could go so many different ways and I simply haven’t made up my mind which one I’d want to do… 
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	21. Twist (part 4)

Alec slowly makes his way through the short hallway leading off from the living room, towards where he can hear the sounds of Magnus moving around his loft.

As much as he is almost tempted to simply take off without even acknowledging ever having come here in the first place – much less apparently having more or less collapsed at the warlock’s feet upon his arrival – and as much as he rather desperately doesn't actually want to face anyone right now, simply doesn't quite feel ready yet to deal with people inevitably looking at him differently now, won't be able to stand being pitied or fussed over or at all being treated differently from before…

But.

For one, Alec doesn’t actually have anywhere else to go. And secondly, he at least owes Magnus a thank you for letting him inside at all, much less letting him crash on his couch when Alec simply collapsed, especially considering that Magnus truly doesn't owe him _anything_. Not after how they parted ways last time they saw each other.

He reaches the doorway where the sounds of someone moving around are coming from, and as soon as Alec steps into what is apparently the kitchen of Magnus' apartment, the warlock is already glancing up, eyes landing unerringly on Alec.

Immediately, a small but absolutely genuine smile is curving Magnus’ lips. "Ah, Alexander," he greets, hands stilling where he had been going through one of the kitchen drawers.

There is something so warmly intent in his eyes, his gaze assessing and definitely a little worried. But – to Alec’s unspeakable relief – none of the cautious hesitation he had almost been expecting, no overly careful concern. No pity.

And something in Alec immediately just _eases_ at the sight of Magnus' smile.

Not only because of the obvious welcome in his expression - easing the not-really-acknowledged, niggling worry that he might find himself kicked out now that he has woken - but also because there isn't anything all that different about the way Magnus is looking at him right now compared to _before_.

Appraising, intent, but so very warm and open and welcoming. Genuine. A smile just for Alec.

There is something about the normalcy of Magnus' greeting, his expression not overly bright, not trying to make the situation feel any more cheerful than it actually is, but there is also no pity, still carries the exact same sort of warmth Magnus’ smiles always seem to have when directed at him.

Alec breathes out. "Hello, Magnus," he then greets, seeing as he actually can’t remember whether he greeted Magnus earlier, when he showed up at the warlock's door.

Magnus' smile tilts up a little on one side at that. “I trust you slept well?” The warlock’s gaze is still rather intent on him, watching him, his focus unwavering, and Alec honestly doesn’t know what Magnus is looking for in his expression.

So, he just nods, “I did, thanks,” but doesn’t quite know what to say beyond that, especially at suddenly remembering how he had reacted the _last_ time he had woken on Magnus’ couch, namely by insisting that no one could know he’d stayed over at all, before more or less running away, and then proposing to Lydia barely hours later.

But Magnus doesn’t let him flounder for too long, already continuing, "You actually woke just in time. I was just about to order something for dinner." A slight head tilt, eyes still brightly intent on Alec, everything about him almost endearingly earnest as he asks, "What about you? Are you hungry?"

Alec just blinks once, absently notes to himself that it is definitely a little strange to just ignore the elephant in the room, to pretend like everything about this is perfectly normal, to not acknowledge the oddness of the current situation. But he also can't quite make himself refuse the chance of acting like everything were fine, like his entire life hasn’t been turned on its head just a few hours ago, like he didn’t give up everything he knows, suddenly has no clue what he is going to do with himself or his life now.

If anything, he is rather unspeakably grateful for Magnus’ apparent willingness to simply treat him normally.

So, he just nods as he takes another two steps into the kitchen. "I could eat," he returns.

"Fabulous," Magnus returns, smile immediately brightening further. Like the warlock might have been worried Alec might refuse the offer. "How about Italian? I know this wonderful little place that does the most delightful pasta dishes. Their carbonara is the best I've tasted this side of the Atlantic."

Alec nods in vague agreement. He doesn't have much of an opinion on food in general, so he'll just take Magnus' word for it. At least 'pasta' is something he knows, so he won’t have to ask for an explanation as to what exactly it is he'll be eating.

And as he watches Magnus set the table, magic swirling, he can’t help but note to himself that there is something rather breathtakingly beautiful about Magnus as he uses his magic so freely, fingers twirling, strands of magic following his every direction, some of its tendrils just almost visible as they coil through the air.

It's honestly rather mesmerizing to watch.

And it also serves as an excellent distraction for Alec to focus on.

+++

Magnus surreptitiously watches Alexander even as he orders their dinner and sets the table. He tries to be inconspicuous about his observation, taking care not to make it too obvious.

He is fairly certain that Alexander might actually still be in a kind of shock.

It’s just… He has heard that just the process of deruning in itself is already incredibly painful. Add to that the shock to the system that something as drastic as the instant removal of the runes that Shadowhunters wear from their childhood on is bound to be, runes strengthening the body, enhancing the senses, broadening the minds, the sudden shift of losing all of that so abruptly, not to even mention the _personal_ implications of a life turned on its head…

So, no, Magnus wouldn’t be at all surprised if Alexander were still in some sort of shock right now.

_Well, it also wouldn’t surprise me if he were actively ignoring it for now, just giving his body a chance to catch up with the changes before he’ll force his mind to actually think through all of the implications of his current situation._

And if a sense of normalcy – a chance to simply ignore what happened, to avoid thinking baout the consequences of the choices he made for the sake of others, another few hours to let his body catch up with the changes – is what Alexander needs right now, then Magnus will absolutely give him just that.

Rather happily so.

And once Alexander moves on to the next phase, of trying to figure out what to do with himself now, how to rebuild a life from scratch after giving up everything he had made of himself before, Magnus will be here for that as well.

If Alexander _lets_ him, Magnus fully intends to be here every single step of the way.

+++

They have dinner on the balcony.

The view across New York is honestly amazing, the food truly is just as excellent as Magnus promised, and the meal itself is actually surprisingly lighthearted.

Magnus ordered several dishes for them to share, an interesting mix of flavors, and Alec actually likes all of it but also quickly decides on his favorites in the rather impressive spread. And throughout the meal, the warlock does more than his fair share in making sure that their conversation doesn’t die down for more than a few moments at a time, keeping up a constant stream of commentary, tells stories and anecdotes about the food or the places in Italy where the dishes originate or that one chef friend of his in Venice or how he’d met the guy who supposedly invented the modern pizza about two centuries back.

And for the duration of the meal, Alec just lets himself fully focus on _this_, on listening to Magnus’ stories and tasting the food and just _being in the here and now_.

He knows he is purposely distracting himself, keeping his mind off his own situation, just as he knows that Magnus is clearly doing his absolute best to give Alec that option of simply not thinking about anything right now.

And, angel, is he ever so grateful for that.

Because, who knows how long this reprieve will last, how long it’ll be before the real world once more comes calling. So, Alec is damn well going to take this chance, this brief respite, a moment to breathe.

Still, in the end, the meal can’t last forever and there is something Alec truly needs to say as much as he’d like to continue pretending like nothing about this entire situation is of any particular note at all.

So, when Magnus’ current story winds to a close, Alec finally speaks up, “I’m sorry for just showing up here.”

The topic change is admittedly a little abrupt, but Alec still needs to say it. He honestly means it as well.

Because - his own issues aside - Alec is fully aware that the way he has been treating Magnus ever since they met isn't really all that fair. Continuously sending Magnus away, claiming there could never possibly be anything between them, but then still always _coming back_, forever asking for the warlock’s help with something or other, relying on the fact that he will not be refused, not as long as Alec is the one asking. Assured that Magnus honestly likes him – a fact that is actually still a little mind-boggling to him – and will apparently not ever send him away.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus is already protesting. “I’m _glad_ you decided to come here and you are absolutely welcome to stay here for however long you want to.”

A reaction, which doesn’t surprise Alec in the least and also just goes to prove his point about Magnus’ kindness.

But he also feels like he owes Magnus at least _something_. An explanation, an excuse, something to explain why after telling him in a less than kind manner about having proposed to Lydia, about intending to marry someone else, Alec still decided to come _here_ when everything else in his life crumbled away.

“I just…,” he trails off, suddenly doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Or rather, he doesn’t _want_ to actually voice any of the thoughts running through his head, thoughts ranging all the way from ‘I just didn’t have anywhere else to go’ to ‘I just wanted to be somewhere where I knew nothing I didn’t want to give would be asked of me’. Not to even mention the ‘I just wanted to be somewhere where I felt _safe_ and you are the only person who has ever made me feel that’.

Alec is already feeling much too vulnerable, much too far outside of his comfort zone, for him to want to _add_ to that by actually admitting any of those thoughts out loud.

Still, he more than appreciates the fact that Magnus had indeed immediately opened his door to him when Alec had shown up out of the blue, doesn’t even know how to describe the feeling of reassurance, of knowing he is accepted here, that he can stay here, like a breath of air just as the world had started pressing down on him from all sides, his life crumbling away from beneath his feet, a chasm of uncertainty yawning in front of him. That _even now_ despite his situation, his own insecurity Alec still doesn’t so much as doubt whether he is actually welcome here.

“_Thank you_, Magnus,” is all he comes out with in the end, makes sure to meet the warlock’s eyes, holds his gaze, trying to get his sincerity across despite his own inability to put everything he wants to say into words.

And Magnus just meets his eyes, gaze turning weighty as he watches Alec for a couple of moments, his focus intent but his regard somehow still as warm as always. Before, finally, a small smile is stretching over his face.

Magnus doesn't reply, doesn’t bother repeating his reassurance that Alec is welcome here, actually doesn’t say anything at all.

But when the warlock then gets up to clear the table, walking past him on his way to the kitchen, he ever-so-briefly reaches out to rest a warm hand on Alec’s shoulder as he passes.

It’s just a few seconds, a solid touch, warm and reassuring, reminding Alec that while everything about his life might have changed so very suddenly, he is in fact not entirely alone, that he still has somewhere to go, a place to stay. Somewhere where he is – and always will be – welcome.

And that is truly worth more than Alec can even say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a rather short chapter, but since I’m honestly not sure how far I’ll actually manage to continue this particular fic, I figured small installments whenever I get inspired for another scene are better than trying to wait until I have enough for a full chapter, something which might never happen at all :)
> 
> But, as promised, a little Malec interaction in this. Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> Thanks so much for all your wonderful comments and kudos <3


	22. Priorities (part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to '**;)**' for the awesome discussions about the plot and the background of this :D

_Alec leans his head back, blinking blearily up at the ceiling of the Head of the Institute office. _

_By the angel, he is so exhausted, he can barely even see straight anymore._

_He seems to be spending all of his time in his office these days and his brain feels like it's made out of molasses. Or some sort of thick sludge. Or whatever that phrase is about thought processes moving so slowly you start getting annoyed with your own brain for not working as it should._

_Well, at least he has been making progress. **Slow** progress, but progress nonetheless. _

_Turns out, there is apparently a reason why running an Institute is generally considered a two-person job._

_Just the paperwork alone is taking up most of his day, not to even mention having to sign off on everything, mission reports, training schedules, funding, reassignments, applications, everyone's payments, new equipment orders, shipments from Idris, the Institute's general finances... Thankfully, he was already familiar with it all, after years of acting as his parents' stand-in whenever they decided to visit Idris for a couple of weeks. But still, it took him about a full day to read up on the details of everything that now falls under his direct purview._

_Hence, him being stuck playing catch-up._

_Which isn't even mentioning the time he is spending on coordinating the worldwide man-hunt for Valentine – a man-hunt that started the very moment the Clave announced Valentine most likely being in the possession of the Cup – with the other Institutes. Or the significantly increased number of missives he is exchanging with various Downworld leaders – in New York and also beyond – as Vampire clan leaders and High Warlocks and werewolf alphas demand they be kept apprised of the situation._

_It’s honestly a little much to handle just by himself._

_He sighs. **Thank the angel for Lydia**, he can't help but think, less-than-enthusiastically eyeing the endless stacks of paperwork on the desk in front of him._

_Lydia who has been helping him ever since the moment she arrived at the Institute. Lydia who – as another heir of one of the old lines – received the exact same training as Alec did, not only regarding general Shadowhunter duties but also regarding the more administrative aspects that come with any sort of leadership positions within the Clave. So, she definitely knows what she is doing and it's an incredible relief not to have to hover over her shoulder to make sure she does things to his satisfaction._

_Like her having simply taken over most of Alec’s previous responsibilities - such as the training schedules or the assignments for missions, patrols, or guard duties - which he quite simply doesn’t have the time for anymore._

_Lydia is the reason Alec has been able to get any sleep at all in between his stupidly busy days. _

** _Thank the angel for Lydia, indeed_ ** _, he thinks again._

_It’s been three days since he took over as Head of the Institute, since he achieved his childhood dream of running the New York Institute. It’s wonderful. A chance to prove himself, to uphold his family name, raise the Lightwood name to be exactly what he always dreamed it should be. It’s everything he ever wanted._

_Except… _

** _It's not _ ** **really_ everything, is it?_** _ a voice murmurs at the back of his mind. _

_It's a voice he knows too well, telling him there should be **more** to it – more to his life, more to Alec himself – than just his job, forever nudging his awareness towards those dreams about his future that he has buried deep deep down, never talked about, dreams that he has never so much as even mentioned to another person. Dreams not only of him running the Institute but then also having someone **to come home to** after... _

_He closes his eyes for a second, two. Let's his mind drift towards those thoughts, just a couple of moments to bask in the images of a future he knows he'll never have._

_Thankfully, Alec has decades of practice in pushing down that voice. _

_He sighs out, shakes off those thoughts, makes himself once more sit up from his slight slouch, already reaching for yet another report on the stack to his left, focuses fully on the work in front of him, determined to finish catching up on yesterday’s paperwork at the very least by the end of today.._

_He simply won’t allow himself any more slack than that.   
_

* * *

Magnus frowns, mostly focused on the potion he is currently brewing but part of him also focused… elsewhere.

There is something tugging at him, at his attention, making it impossible for him to truly relax, though he can’t quite put his finger on just what is keeping so distracted.

He knows it’s not the Mortal Cup – now locked away, right alongside his spell book – that has him unable so jittery. The wards he hid the Mortal Cup behind see to his peace of mind in that regard.

Wards that _will not fail_, immutable, unbreakable, impossible to circumvent.

It’s an ancient ward spell, so archaic that few if any warlocks even know of its existence anymore, the sort of magic that - if not outright forbidden - is at the very least harshly frowned upon even amongst his older brethren. Because this sort of spell requires sacrifice and so much _power_ that most other warlocks would be drained dry just by setting up the required ward stones, never mind actually casting the wards.

This sort of magic is _dangerous_. Then again, the old Magicks always are.

Well, in Magnus' eyes, they are also worth their cost. Because these wards are in their very nature immutable, so far beyond outside forces they might as well be untouchable. And the best part? These wards will persist even beyond his death. For the simple reason that - while of course still linked to him - once cast they do not actually draw from Magnus' own power any longer, but rather from nature’s ambient magic instead.

And no one in their right mind will ever even attempt going up against their world's natural magic. That sort of thing is quite plainly suicide.

The point is, the Mortal Cup is safe.

Luke's relief when Magnus told him as much had been more than obvious, the werewolf having given an almost comically relieved sigh, an almost visible weight seeming to lift off his shoulders at the reassurance that no one will be able to get their hands on the Cup.

Only for Luke to then promptly request that Magnus cast some sort of secrecy spell on him to prevent him from ever revealing the Cup’s location to anyone aside from the two of them.

Something which Magnus should maybe have expected.

As a former Shadowhunter, Luke certainly knows perfectly well just how easily information can be drawn from a person against their will. By way of torture, or truth spells, or inescapable powers of artifacts like the Soulsword, or any of the other numerous way of extracting truths and secrets from people.

Which they’d both rather like to avoid.

Not only to protect the Cup from Valentine, but also to protect Luke from the Clave. If Idris ever finds out that Magnus and Luke are hiding the Cup, the Shadowhunters will immediately bring down their full power onto the two of them.

Sure, Magnus himself will survive anything the Clave or the Circle might throw at him. Rather easily so. If worse truly comes to worst, he can always just withdraw to the Labyrinth and wait out the storm there.

But Luke does not have that luxury and also has his pack to think about.

Thus, an added layer of protection had actually been an excellent idea and rather easily done as well. Just a vow of secrecy, bound by Luke’s blood and Magnus’ magic, and, voila, Luke is now quite literally incapable of revealing the Cup’s location to anyone, whether drugged, threatened, or even if someone were to force themselves into Luke’s mind trying to rip the truth from him. The secret is safe.

So.

It definitely isn’t the powerful artifact he is currently hiding from the entire Shadowworld that has had Magnus unable to really settle down these past few days.

No, there is something else, nudging at him, trying to draw his attention. And it’s honestly bugging him that he can’t seem to quite figure out what that _something_ is.

_Hm, maybe some meditation is in order_, he thinks as he starts ladling the freshly brewed potion into separate vials.

It's been a while since he's truly taken some time to meditate, some time to himself, to focus inwards, to figure out just what his instincts and his magic are so very clearly trying to nudge him towards.

* * *

_"Alec," Jace says, the moment he steps through the door into Alec's office, voice already rather confrontational. "Why did you reassign Clary to be trained by Lydia?"_

_Alec glances up, has to blink once or twice, trying to get his brain to focus on whatever issue his parabatai might currently be complaining about. He looks over at Izzy who followed Jace into his office but doesn’t seem to intend to speak up for now. _

_But before he can say anything in reply, like maybe mentioning the fact that he isn’t handling the training schedules any longer, Jace is already continuing, “You can’t just have **her** take over Clary’s training, Alec. I had it handled.”_

_And, well, Alec can’t just let that - honestly rather ridiculous - statement go._

_“You had it handled,” he more states than asks, keeps his tone neutral but knows his parabatai will still be able to hear the utter skepticism in his voice. Because, Jace ‘handling’ Clary in any way is absolutely news to Alec._

_“Izzy and I,” Jace amends, can apparently tell that he is currently walking on rather thin ice with him, as he adds on quickly, “We were training her.” And there is that stubborn tilt to Jace’s head that Alec knows so well._

_And Alec is honestly just too tired to deal with this, with them coming to him asking he fix their problems despite the two of them being grown-ass adults._

_"I didn't reassign her training," he finally says, watches utter vindication immediately spreading over his parabatai’s face and promptly cuts Jace off, "Lydia is handling the training schedules now. If something changed, it was her call."_

_Jace blinks, clearly taken aback. _

_But before his parabatai can actually say anything further, Izzy is stepping forward. "Wait," she says, holding up a hand, something almost incredulous in her voice. "Why is **Lydia** handling the schedules? That was always your thing."_

_At the emphasis on Lydia's name, Alec almost wants to sigh. Then again, he honestly can't be bothered to try figuring out why his siblings seem to have such a big problem with Lydia. So, he just raises an unimpressed eyebrow at both of them, sets the report about one of yesterday's missions that he just signed off on aside, reaching for the next document on top of the - seemingly ever-growing - pile to his left. _

_"Because was given the entire Institute to run and I simply didn't have the time to also handle all of my normal duties on top of that. I needed to delegate."_

_"But...," Izzy blinks at him. "Why didn't you ask us for help then?"_

_He gives a one-shouldered shrug, still mostly focused on the report in front of him, as he replies absently, "Lydia offered.” He makes himself stop there, doesn't say, _unlike my sister or my parabatai who are so busy ‘handling’ a mundane-come-nephilim girl, this is the first time I’ve spoken to them in two days.

_Sure, it would probably be nice to tell them how much it... **bugs** him that neither of them has so much as considered helping him out. Of course, they took the time after the official announcement of Alec taking over as Head of the Institute to congratulate him, both of them fully aware just how much this means to him, but afterwards they promptly vanished once more, doing who knows what._

_And, quite honestly, as nice as it would be to get it all off his chest, he also just can't be bothered right now, has neither the patience to deal with their sensibilities, nor the time to let himself be railroaded by Izzy and Jace right now. Not to even mention just how utterly **done** he is with apparently finding himself in yet another Clary-centered argument with his siblings._

_Maybe once he has things under control again, once he gets a handle on running an Institute by himself, maybe then he can cater to their whims again. But for now, his parabatai's pouting at not getting to personally train his crush honestly doesn't even **make** the list of the top hundred things Alec rather urgently needs to handle. Today._

_"We didn't know you needed help," Jace finally asserts once it becomes clear that Alec isn't planning to say anything else, his tone still somewhat confrontational but also something different in his parabatai's voice now that Alec can't quite pick out. "We would have offered if we'd known."_

_At that Alec finally glances up, raises an eyebrow to make his skepticism more than clear. "You didn't realize that having to take on all of Mom and Dad's jobs **on top** of my own might possibly be a little too much to handle for just me?" _

_They blink at him some more, something sheepish now entering their expressions. He watches them for another few seconds, waits them out. _

_Because, sure, he **could** have asked for their help, could have sought them out and assigned them specific tasks to lighten his own load. But honestly? Why **would** he, if he also has other people willingly offering their help to him. _

_This quite simply isn't on Alec. _

_Finally, Izzy clears her throat, blinks once. "Right," she says with a determined nod, takes a step closer to his desk. "What can we do to help?"_

_To her right, Jace firms his stance, eyes on Alec, sudden determination to help obvious in his gaze._

** _Well, would you look at that_ ** _, Alec thinks sardonically. **They **_ **can_ be taught after all._**

* * *

Magnus calmly watches the fledgling vampire currently camped out on his couch.

The kid is pale, slight shivers continuing to run through him, eyes a little glassy where he is absently staring at the vase on the coffee table.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call someone?" Magnus finally asks carefully, lets his magic heat the room a little further, knowing that transitioning vampires tend to feel the sort of bone-deep cold one would during a particularly bad fever.

"I already told Raphael," Simon returns, eyes clearing a little as they focus on Magnus. "And I don't have anyone else to call." A pause. Then, quietly, "Not about this."

"What about your friend?" Magnus asks carefully, recalling Simon mentioning some Shadowhunter friend or something along those lines. "The one you mentioned who is also involved in the Shadowworld."

Simon sighs out, something about him just seeming to wilt in resigned misery. "I can't reach her. I even went by that Shadowhunter church where she brought me last time, but the guards wouldn't let me in. Because, apparently, _mundanes_ aren't welcome there."

There is a wealth of helpless anger in the kid's voice at that last bit and Magnus hums softly in sympathy. "I'm afraid that even if they had realized that you are not quite a mundane anymore, they wouldn't have been any more welcoming on account of you being on the verge of becoming a Downworlder."

Simon nods forlornly. The shadows underneath his eyes are deep, his features drawn, something listless about him. Magnus can tell that he is a mere few hours away from transitioning. He's seen this often enough to know the signs.

"Also, I took your advice," Simon then adds on quietly. "I told my family I was going on a trip, traveling for a few weeks with my band. I made something up about some sort of tour around the country."

Magnus nods in recognition. He had suggested Simon tell his family something along those lines. Either to serve as an excuse in case the kid becomes a vampire and needs to disappear for a bit to learn control, or as an excuse to say his heartfelt goodbyes without anyone the wiser that he isn’t actually planning to return.

Because if the kid actually chooses to become a vampire then he'll need some time apart from mortals to let him get used to the changes, to the bloodlust, to staying out of sunlight, and everything else that comes with being a child of the night. And if he chooses _not_ to become a vampire, then supposedly going on a trip will at least give Simon _and_ his family that tiny bit of closure of having gotten an honest goodbye before the end.

"I think I want to turn," Simon then speaks up quietly, before glancing up, eyes finding Magnus'. "I can't purposely make my mother go through losing me, no matter what that means for me. I just _can't_. Not if there is a _choice_." He practically spits out the last word, pure, desolate anger in his voice.

Magnus almost wants to close his eyes at that. This is what he means when he says that having the choice of turning is a curse all on its own. Because in the end, it so very rarely is a choice you actually make for yourself and much more often tends to be about those you hold dear. Which, however, doesn't change the reality of it. Or the fact that both are absolutely valid choices to make.

"Okay," he just replies calmly. "And you are more than welcome to stay here until you feel ready to face the world again."

Simon blinks at him, the fog finally clearing from his eyes entirely as he focuses on Magnus. "Raphael said you helped him out after he was turned as well?" he asks, definite interest suddenly having returned to his voice.

"He was in a bad place," Magnus nods, lets his lips tilt up at the kid's rather obvious fascination with the other vampire. "He never got to make the choice of turning and found himself without a sire to help him out after. I just gave him a place to stay, to rest, to think. To find his feet again."

Simon tilts his head, the sudden skepticism in his expression almost humorous. "That's not how Raphael tells it. He said that you saved him from himself. That he was just about ready to 'walk into the sun' when you found him and that you were the one who showed him that life is still worth living, no matter what may have happened to him."

Now Magnus is the one left blinking, can't quite help the smile suddenly tugging at his lips, something warm spreading through his chest at hearing that.

Raphael might be moody on his best days, forever standoffish, broody even when in a _good_ mood. But he is also one of the most straightforwardly honest and steadfastly _loyal_ people Magnus has ever met, one of the very few people he truly counts as _family_. A sentiment, Magnus knows, that is most certainly returned.

Well, sometimes it’s still nice to hear it.

* * *

_Alec frowns down at the missive in his hands. It’s a Fire Message from his parents, more or less telling him to come see them in Alicante. _

_His frown deepens. Because the letter doesn’t actually say **why** they apparently want to talk to him, and he very much doubts that this is about them wanting to actually apologize. Which is, however, the only thing he currently wants to hear from them._

_Alec simply hasn’t gotten over his anger at them yet, at their lying and their double standards. And he most certainly hasn’t gotten past his disappointment at hearing that they were ever even in the Circle **at all**._

_Sure, he has always been perfectly aware of their general dislike of Downworlders, but he had never thought their prejudice ran deep enough they would ever have followed Valentine, for them to have ever even considered genocide to be an actual option. Which is very much what the Circle preaches, no matter how prettily Valentine might have dressed up his world views during his supposedly-not-quite-as-brutal earlier days._

_No, Alec still isn’t sure what to do with any of this._

_He knows he could forgive his parents a lot. If given some time he could forgive them for being absolute hypocrites, could forgive them for their lies, for the way they made themselves out as true paragons of Shadowhunter virtue when they were anything but, could probably even forgive them for having been part of the Circle at all. Alec could probably forgive them for all of that._

_If only they had been the ones to tell him about it._

_But they **hadn't**. In addition to everything else, his parents proved themselves to be utter cowards. And when Alec had confronted them about it all, the only thing they had offered him were excuses, for their history with the Circle and for their decision to keep it a secret from Alec, none of which anywhere near good enough as an explanation in his eyes._

_The thing is... Even putting his personal disappointment aside, Alec also just can’t help but wonder what might have happened if Lydia hadn’t so casually mentioned his parents being ex-Circle members in front of him, whether he would have continued believing that the harm done to the Lightwoods’ standing in Idris was truly entirely on him and his inability to rein in his siblings. _

_And what he might have been willing to sacrifice in order to make up for his assumed shortcomings._

_It's a thought that has had him rather preoccupied ever since that particular revelation, even despite the insane amount of work in front of him. Because, if he is honest with himself, he already knows the answer to that question. _

_Alec would have done absolutely **everything**. And it seems like his parents would have simply **let** him._

_Which is actually the part that hurts the most._

_His parents would have let him carry the burden of their failings and they wouldn’t even have had the decency or integrity or just simple character to tell him about the sacrifice he would have been making for their sake._

_So, now? Alec can only be grateful that things worked out differently. That the simple decision to keep the Clave apprised of the situation around the Mortal Cup not only ended up letting him in on his parents’ lies but also got him promoted to Head of the Institute, gave him a chance to restore the standing of the Lightwood name in Idris based on his own actions, untainted by his parents' failings._

_And it is that last thought that has him so preoccupied now._

_Because Alec wonders. Wonders how much of what he has been taught ever since he was a child might have been tainted by his parents' less-than-admirable views. Wonders whether those standards his parents have been instilling into him for years are actually to be taken as immutable truths any longer. For the simple fact that if his parents – at any point in their lives – ever honestly considered the Circle’s doctrine not only acceptable but to be put above the Clave’s own teachings, considered Valentine’s view on Downworlders worth following…_

_Well, put like that, it truly does seem like a rather obvious conclusion that Alec should maybe reassess some of the things he was taught about Shadowhunter values from childhood on. Especially regarding Downworlders._

_He **does** have his own experiences with the New York’s Downworlders to draw from after all._

_Yes, it really is about time for Alec to take the Lightwood name – and what it should stand for – into his own hands._

* * *

Magnus takes in his surroundings through narrowed eyes, the docks of New York at night are familiar, even if he doesn't stop by here all that often.

His senses are telling him that Dot is nearby.

He’s been trying to track her last whereabouts, hasn’t seen her ever since that brief conversation when she had sought him out to let him know about the Fairchilds having gone missing.

Back then, he had refused to go with her to search for Jocelyn and Clarissa, quite simply too busy ensuring that his ducklings got away safely, portaling whoever wanted to leave to the Labyrinth and then making the rounds for those who decided to stick around despite the threat of Valentine, helping them update their wards, making sure they would be as safe as they possibly could be.

Taking care of his warlocks had quite simply come first in that moment.

But things have also been happening since and now he wishes he had at least insisted on Dot accompanying him, for her to rest until her magical reserves had once more recovered before she went looking for some of the most sought-after people in the Shadowworld.

Because he hasn't been able to find her. Despite looking for her rather intently.

They've known each other for a long time and Dot is one of the very few people on this earth who Magnus would call a true friend, so he has long since become rather familiar with her magic, has gained a certain sense for it.

Tracking her should have been easy for him. Expect it hadn’t been.

Even after several attempts, trying quite a variety of tracking spells and not a single one of them working, he hadn't been able to pick up on her magic at all. Which actually shouldn't be possible. Well, unless there is something interfering with his tracking.

And there aren't many things on this earth that can keep Magnus' magic from picking up at least a trace of someone. The most obvious of which being large bodies of water. Something New York certainly is in no shortage of.

However, the thought that Dot currently being impossible to track due to her being somewhere above a large body of water isn't reassuring in the least. Because no warlock would ever willingly spend an extended amount of time on water. Water might not directly affect their magic, but it still messes with their senses, their connection to the earth, and in all of his years Magnus has yet to meet a single warlock who actually enjoys being out on the ocean.

Which would point to Dot not actually being given a choice regarding her current location. To Magnus' absolute fury.

Thus, he promptly decided to go old-school with his search, performed a spell to widen his magical senses a little so as to better let him pick up on Dot's magical signature, and then started doing a simple grid search along the coast.

It's been an exhausting process - what with New York being at least halfway surrounded by the ocean - but, with his magical senses widened and focused towards Dot's powers, he knew he'd find her eventually. He only needed to come close enough to her current location to be able to pick up on her magic, water or no.

Which led him here. To the docks.

And his senses, widened by the spell as they are, are definitely picking up on Dot’s magic now, actually just a little distance from where he is currently standing, coming from the ship right in front of him. 

A ship that is surrounded by wards. Of the powerful kind. Powerful enough that it would take Magnus at least a bit of effort to rip them down. Wards that Dot is apparently being kept behind.

Magnus takes definite exception to that.

He honestly wants nothing more than to immediately charge ahead and get Dot out from - what he is just going to assume is - Valentine's clutches. The occasional nephilim he can see wandering in and out of the ship from where he is watching – unnoticed, where he is standing in the dark shadow cast by a nearby warehouse – more than obviously gives exactly who runs that ship away.

And it makes him gnash his teeth just thinking about what might be happening to Dot right now while she is Valentine’s captive.

But.

As much as he just wants to rip the ship apart right now, the search along the coast took a lot out of Magnus, all the while constantly feeding magic into the spell to keep his senses wide open, so as to better pick up on Dot’s magic, even more so. He is already running uncomfortably low on magic and tearing down those wards surrounding the ship might just drain the last of his reserves. Which, well, is just about the last thing he wants when walking into an uncertain situation.

If he wants to get Dot out without also getting the both of them killed, he doesn't really have a choice but to first replenish his magical reserves.

He feels his eyes narrow, ice-cold anger in his veins, even as he notes the exact location to himself, twirling his fingers, a portal springing up for him to step through, back into the living room of his loft, the portal once more closing immediately behind him, as he already steps towards his study to find himself one of those replenishing potions to help the recovery of his magical reserves along.

It’s _still_ likely going to take him a day or so until he recovers enough of his magic for him to want to attempt charging into one of Valentine’s apparent hideouts by himself. And who knows what might happen to Dot in the meantime...

Then again… If he had some help. If Magnus himself only needed to tear down those wards and could then let someone else rip through Valentine’s forces in his stead…

_Now _that_ would be an entirely different story, wouldn’t it_, Magnus thinks, tilting his head, eyes narrowing in thought.

Didn’t he hear something about a change in leadership at the local Institute just a few days ago? Something about Robert and Maryse having been replaced by their oldest son? Not to even mention the comparatively open communication the new Head seems to be keeping with the various Downworld leaders around the city regarding Valentine?

Tipping the Institute off about one of Valentine's hideouts and then watching how the information is handled does rather seem like a perfect opportunity to get a feel for the newest leader of the New York Institute, doesn’t it…

Magnus tilts his head slightly. _Hm, now there's a thought._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. The malec meeting will be next chapter then after all :) Because this fic (like any other story I've ever written) just keeps growing and growing without my say-so XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your wonderful comments and kudos!


	23. Freudian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one set during 1x12, where Alec calls off his wedding to Lydia by kissing Magnus in front of everyone. He didn’t expect for the sudden change to confuse the already invoked ceremonial magic. And he certainly didn’t expect to suddenly find himself married to Magnus instead. (Accidentally married AU)

Alec can’t rip his eyes away.

His gaze is locked with Magnus’. Magnus who is standing halfway down the aisle of the Institute’s ceremonial hall, looking right back at him where Alec is standing at the front, hand held in Lydia’s as she was just about to draw the wedded union rune on the skin of his palm.

Magnus’ focus on him calm, unwavering. And Alec stares helpless, can’t seem to look away.

He hears his siblings whispering to each other where they are standing a step behind himself and Lydia, is aware of his mother striding down the aisle to confront Magnus – most likely about daring to show up here in the first place. But not once does Magnus glance away, eyes on Alec.

As always. As it’s been since the moment they met. They are surrounded by people and Magnus only has eyes for him.

“Are you gonna be okay, buddy?” he hears Jace ask from behind him, something careful and worried and uncertain in his voice.

Alec can’t even blame him for his confusion. He _himself_ isn’t doing much better, so damn confused, torn between his duty, his family, his career and the idea that he’ll be giving up any chance at ever finding true happiness.

_I don’t know_, he wants to say to Jace. But can’t. Because Lydia is standing in front of him, looking stunning in her wedding dress, holding the stele she already charged with the ceremonial magic of the wedded union rune, the ceremony already started.

_No, I won’t_, would be the truthful answer. But he can’t say that either. Because it’s his wedding day. And Alec would rather be anywhere but here.

_I don’t want this_, he thinks, eyes are still locked with Magnus’.

Magnus who is right there, who came to Alec’s wedding despite saying he wouldn’t ask again, wouldn’t chase him anymore. Magnus who probably looks just as breathtaking as always but right now Alec couldn’t even tell you the color of his shirt. Because he hasn’t so much as glanced away from Magnus’ eyes yet.

He knows that the instance he glances away, he’ll have to make a choice. A _final_ choice. A choice he won’t be able to take back. A choice between duty and being himself.

Alec keeps his eyes on Magnus, tries not to think about the fact that he is almost drawing strength from Magnus unwavering gaze, his steadfast presence, his exclusive focus on Alec. Immovable. Certain. _There_.

Like an anchor, a rock amongst the waves, to let Alec find his footing again as the decisions made by him and by others threaten to drag him out, drag him under, drag him away from everything he ever wanted in life.

He can’t breathe.

_I’m **not** going to be okay_, he thinks, something almost desperate running through him at the thought._ Not at all._

“Alec,” Lydia says lowly from in front of him, calling his attention back to her. He has to blink once, twice, before he can actually make himself glance away from Magnus.

He looks at her. She doesn’t deserve this, neither of them does. Lydia doesn’t deserve to be bound to him, someone who’ll never truly want her, who’ll always regret marrying her to a certain degree no matter how hard Alec would try not to, simply because a small part of himself – the part that so very recently has come to a couple of realizations about himself, realizations that mostly circle around a certain warlock – will always resent the fact that he can’t have what he actually wants, that anyone he would truly want to marry wouldn’t be acceptable in the eyes of the Clave. Because if it were up to him, he’d never actually want to marry a woman. And that’s just not done.

Lydia is still smiling, brightly, like there is nothing at all wrong with Alec staring helplessly and absolutely transfixed at someone else, at the warlock who showed up unannounced right in the middle of their wedding.

Then again, Lydia also _knows_. She’s known since Alec proposed to her, only for her to reject him on the grounds of it not being fair to him as she would never be able to truly love him. She has already had her big love, and she has absolutely no interest in finding another.

But Alec already knew that, realized as much when she told him about her late husband, knew she’d never fall in love with him. It’s why he decided to propose to her in the first place. Because they are very much in the same boat.

So, Alec had told her, told her about himself, had let himself be honest with her. He had told her some things about himself that he hadn’t even fully admitted to himself yet at that point. Told her about not being attracted to women, told her that he will never be able to truly love her either, at least not romantically. But that he could easily see himself loving her platonically, that marrying someone he considers a friend is already much better than he ever expected he’d get, that he could honestly see himself build a life with her. As friends.

And at that, she had finally said yes.

The point is, both of them have known from the very start that they were marrying for their careers, for the job they had both always dreamed of, to make up for the fact that neither of them could have the life they actually want. Marrying for love simply wasn’t an option for either of them. Lydia because she doesn’t intend to ever let herself love anyone again, and Alec because he’ll never be able to marry someone he _could_ love anyway. Not if he wants the Clave’s approval. Or his parents’, for that matter.

So, the two of them had decided to turn something awful about their lives into something good, into something new, something hopeful, into the idea of family.

And now, Alec is about to call it all off.

Because he can’t breathe. Looking at Lydia smiling in front of him, his siblings barely a few steps away, his parents watching, a life of duty and responsibility and never any true happiness for himself in front of him. And all he can think is that it’s not enough, not even close.

_I don’t want this._

He breathes in. Tries to at least. There is something lodged in his throat, a pressure on his chest he doesn’t know what to do with. “I can’t breathe,” he almost gasps out.

“I know,” Lydia smiles at him, still bright, still happy, still content with their situation and the future they might have.

Alec focuses on her. “I can’t do this, Lydia,” he says, so very, incredibly sorry when he sees her smile waver just the slightest bit. “I thought we were doing the right thing,” he continues, lowly, urgently. “But this isn’t it.”

Because, it’s just not.

Damnit all, but they both deserve a chance at _more_, not just contentment with choices made out of necessity and obligation and settling for something _less_ because it’s all they think they can have.

“You don’t need to explain.” She is smiling again. Almost like she isn’t even entirely surprised by this turn of events.

“Lydia, I’m sorry,” he says. And, by the angel, does he mean it. This entire charade was his idea. And now he’s the one deciding not to go through with it.

“Hey,” she interrupts him, hand coming up to settle against the side of his neck. “You deserve to be happy,” she says, perfectly mirroring his thoughts about her deserving the same. “Okay?” Her smile is bright once more. “I’ll be fine.”

_She’ll be fine_, he thinks, reassures himself. Then, determinedly, **_we’ll_**_ be fine_.

He smiles slightly at her in return, barely there but it’s enough for something genuinely bright to flash through her expression in definite approval.

Alec turns.

Back towards the guest, back towards everyone watching.

Back towards Magnus.

Their gazes lock instantly once more. Magnus is still waiting, waiting for him. Standing in the middle of the Institute’s ceremonial hall, amongst Shadowhunters, still unwavering, meeting his gaze.

Alec feels like he can breathe again.

_I want **him**._

His breath catches, something like a current almost seeming to hum under his skin at that thought. It should be scary, the way he wants Magnus, the way he is currently turning away from things that mean so much to him, instead willing to risk it all to – for the first time in his entire damn life – be entirely, unapologetically selfish, to do something solely for himself.

It’s freeing.

He lets himself think it again. _I want him._ Absently marvels at not feeling that instant thread of shameful guilt curling through him that he’s been living with ever since he first realized that no matter how good of a Shadowhunter he might train himself to be he would never be able to truly live up to his parents’ or to the Clave’s standards. Not where his heart is concerned.

He walks down the few steps leading down from the area at the front, halts just for an instant. Not due to doubt, not due to hesitation, but to give himself a moment to appreciate just how momentous what he is about to do truly is.

Alec already knows he isn’t going to change his mind, has no interest in turning back, in turning away.

_Why would I? When everything I want is right **there**._

His eyes remain on Magnus. Who watches him right back.

_I **want** him._

Because, he does.

Alec starts walking, towards Magnus, almost absently brushes off his mother’s complaint on the way, until he is finally there, within reaching distance, hands coming up, grasping a hold of Magnus’ suit. He pulls him close, closer, closer still.

Into a kiss.

The first press of their lips together almost feels like a punch to his system, like adrenaline and not enough air and finally _finally_ being able to breathe.

He gasps in a breath, barely moves away to do so before he leans in again.

And Magnus is already reacting, lips moving against his, warm and soft, a hand coming up to wrap around one of Alec’s wrist, the other landing on his waist, keeping him close.

Alec thinks he could lose himself in this.

He does. Loses his sense of time and location for a couple of moments as all of himself is focused on the sensation of having Magnus so close, the heat of him, lips moving against his, the barest scent of something warm and woodsy making Alec want to lean in just that little bit closer, wants more, wants it all.

There is a slight burning sensation on the back of his hand, the exact opposite of where Lydia had been about to draw the wedded union rune. It’s a familiar sensation, the initial discomfort of a rune being applied for the first time.

Although, _why would I…?_

There is a sort of pressure building in the air around them, a feeling he doesn’t recognize, something new, something that feels weighty and significant. And maybe the sensation is just part of being kissed – because, _how would **I** know_? – but still Alec pulls away slightly from the kiss, wanting to check what’s going on.

But he barely manages to pull away enough to meet Magnus’ eyes, heat punching through him at the way the warlock follows his lips as he does, sees Magnus’ brow furrowed the slightest bit in mirrored confusion, maybe able to feel that something around them too, but his focus clearly still very much on Alec.

Their eyes lock again. And Alec forgets about the burning sensation in his hand, or the pressure of _something_ in the air around them.

Instead, he leans in again, needs to kiss Magnus again.

Magnus meets him halfway, clearly in no way interested in stopping either, though he takes the lead this time. Their second kiss is softer somehow, a little slower, more testing than before but somehow also so much more intense at the same time, like electricity shivering along Alec’s skin, honey-slow heat suffusing his veins as he tries to pull Magnus just that little closer by the lapels of his jacket.

** _This_ ** _ is what I want._

Something shifts, the very air around them seeming to twist. And then, it settles, stills. Right alongside something within Alec doing the same.

_Angel, his lips are soft_, Alec thinks almost helplessly, only halfway aware of the burning on his hand reaching its peak, at the same time as the pressure in the air around them does. He feels Magnus twitch slightly, something almost like the slightest flinch running through the warlock. Like he feels it, too. Whatever ‘it’ is.

Suddenly, there are gasps from all around them. Which is what finally has Alec pull away from Magnus once more.

He blinks at the warlock still so close to him, who blinks right back, expression mirroring his own slight confusion. Like Magnus felt the shift and the change and everything just like Alec did.

Alec honestly feels like he might be missing something really rather important right now, and finally turns to face the rest of the room. He isn’t the least bit surprised to find everyone staring at them.

Or more specifically, at their hands.

Alec frowns slightly, glances down, his own confusion only increasing once he does. Because there is a wedded union rune glowing on the back of his hand where it is still holding on to the lapel of Magnus’ suit.

But. They stopped the ceremony before Lydia could draw the rune. So, how… ?

There is the slightest choking sound from Magnus, only audible to Alec because they are still standing so close. He immediately looks up at Magnus’ face, only to follow his stare back down to the warlock’s own hand, where it is still wrapped around Alec’s wrist.

Alec blinks, too surprised to even really react to the sight of the matching mark on the warlock’s skin, the wedded union rune sitting resplendent on the back of Magnus’ own hand.

_But how?_

He has no time to figure out just what is going on, before the silence in the ceremonial hall is finally broken. Though, not in the way he would have ever expected.

“It is my honor to now pronounce you one,” the Silent Brother - where he is still standing at the front of the hall, next to the sacred altar used only in Shadowhunter weddings to lend power to the new bond and to ensure the angel’s blessing for the union - intones in his deep, echoing voice. It's the traditional words to pronounce someone wedded after successful conclusion of the ceremony and the Silent Brother says them so calmly, like that is in any way a reasonable thing to pronounce at this point in time.

Alec just blinks in utter confusion, even as he absently notes the warmth of Magnus’ hand still wrapped around his wrist, the way it tightens slightly in mirrored shock. The hand that bears the exact same mark as Alec’s does, the wedded union rune on their skin still aglow with the power of angels instilled within.

And then, the implications finally hit him.

Alec’s eyes widen.

_Wait, what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got this idea from a post on tumblr (https://crimsonclad.tumblr.com/post/167063382473/i-cant-believe-i-still-havent-found-a), which is an absolute first for me and has me rather ridiculously giddy right now ^^ But when I saw that post, I thought the idea of Malec ending up accidentally married was hilarious and perfect for a little humorous, probably somewhat crackish snippet with no internal monologues, no characterization, and no worldbuilding whatsoever, just a harmless ficlet to break up the rather serious tone of the other fics in this collection. And then… _this_ happened. Seriously, where did the crack go?
> 
> Also, yep, I cheerfully messed with the worldbuilding of SH around runes, but there is a definite explanation (not only for how the runes appeared at all but also for how Magnus can have one) and if I ever do add another chapter to this and don’t just leave it as is, then - surprise surprise - there will be more worldbuilding XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	24. Sleeping dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnor almost dies in the demon attack, almost dies right in front of him. And Magnus decides he’s quite simply _had_ it with Valentine and his little band of genocidal bootlickers. (AU of 1x12, where Ragnor doesn’t actually die and Valentine really should have learned to pick his opponents better)

The portal closes behind the two Shadowhunters, but Magnus doesn’t spare their departure any attention.

It’s just him and Ragnor now in the front room of his friend’s house, Magnus kneeling beside his little cabbage on the floor, desolation in his heart.

His best friend is in front of him, a gaping wound in his throat, heart barely beating any longer, magic sluggish, slowing, dwindling, not even his powers enough to keep him here, to heal him, the last thread connecting Ragnor to this life rapidly fading, his spirit barely holding on.

Magnus can feel it, can feel his magic dissipating, his life force dulling, losing itself to the void from where there is no coming back.

And, no. Just. No.

Magnus refuses to lose Ragnor, his little cabbage, his best friend, his brother in all but blood.

He just won’t.

Magnus clenches his teeth.

_No matter what._

He reaches for his magic, feels it gathering around him, focusing around his hands, tendrils of it coiling in between his fingers, around his wrists, up his arms, glowing a brilliant blue as he settles a hand on Ragnor’s chest, almost blindingly bright from the sheer amount of magic he is gathering around himself, lets it bleed into Ragnor, lets it infuse his friend’s very veins, uses it to keep Ragnor’s blood circling, his heart pumping, his lungs inflating, forces his body to hold on. He pulls at his friend’s magic, keeps the thread connecting his friend to this life steady, forces the connection to remain, uses his own magic to keep him here. _Just a little longer_.

It’s magical CPR, won’t do anything to heal the wound in Ragnor’s neck, nothing beyond buying Magnus some time. But time is all he needs.

Time and _power_. 

If Ragnor’s magic isn’t enough to keep him here, if Magnus’ magic isn’t enough to save his little cabbage, then he’ll just need _more_. More power, more strength, more magic. Enough to save his oldest friend. Even if that means doing something he wouldn’t have considered doing even just minutes ago, something he swore to himself he wouldn’t ever do again.

But he isn’t losing his little cabbage. He just isn’t.

And with Ragnor stabilized for just a little longer, Magnus reaches deep, reaches within himself, into his core, reaches _past_ that, reaches for the magic he swore so long ago never to touch again.

His father’s gifts, power beyond that which any ordinary warlock should be able to carry within themselves. Well, at least warlocks who aren’t sired by one of the original Greater Demons.

It’s been centuries since Magnus tapped into that part of his powers, since he so much as touched it, locked it away after he got away from Asmodeus and swore off everything he learned under his father’s tutelage. It’s vast and powerful and hidden so deeply within itself it is barely _there_ anymore, barely part of himself, surrounded by walls he himself built, made of denial and abhorrence and simple refusal, cut off and almost unreachable, almost inaccessible. Almost.

But pure desperation drives him, desperation for more power, the power to save Ragnor, intermixed with the all-encompassing fury at someone daring to try taking him from Magnus.

Magnus reaches deeper, into that vast well of power inside himself that is _heatpowerdestructionwrath_, always there, even if rarely acknowledged.

There is a brief moment of delay, that part of himself so very unused to being called upon, just an instant of breathless stillness.

Then it jumps to his call, eagerly, wildly, ecstatically, suffusing the air around him, making him breathe in sharply, primal power flooding his veins, the ice-blue glow of his magic bleeding purple, then a brilliant blood-red, menacing and blindingly bright, a vortex of power building inside of him, unrestrained will and all-consuming calamity, chaos in its very nature.

A Greater Demon’s powers, passed on to his oldest son, the one trained personally by the ruler of Edom himself, Asmodeus’ heir apparent. Powers fed by the fires of hell itself, destruction given physical form, drawing on wrath and desperation and fury.

And right now, Magnus got those in spades.

He reaches even deeper, pulls it out, coaxes it, feels his surroundings heat up with the sheer amount of power emitting from himself, like a heat haze swirling around him, permeating the air. He ignores the smoke rising from his own form, the carpet he is kneeling on smoldering, scorching, burning away from beneath him.

He pays it no mind, lets his power saturate the air surrounding him, the room, the house, _everything_, more and more and more, draws it out, feeds it into the world around him.

Until his power is everything and reality is what he makes it.

+++

Magnus steps towards the portal he just cast in the middle of the loft’s living room, mind already on what he is planning to do next.

“I would say ‘don’t do anything stupid’,” Ragnor is speaking up from behind him, calling his attention, voice slightly raspy but tone jovial where he is relaxing back in one of Magnus’ armchairs, watching him. “But we both know it wouldn’t be of any use.”

Magnus quirks a slight smile at his friend, power buzzing under his skin, barely held back, pulling at him, wanting to be let out, to destroy, to tear apart, to make sure nothing and no one will ever dare go after _theirs_ again.

Sure, the relief of seeing Ragnor alive and well and perfectly safe under Magnus’ wards, does calm some of that all-encompassing fury still pulsing red-hot in his veins. But the ghastly scar on the side of his neck – where Magnus’ more or less burned away the wound that almost cost Ragnor his life – still serves as a very effective reminder that he did almost lose his friend.

A reminder that is sadly also there to say, seeing as demonic powers just aren’t suited for healing in the traditional sense, at their very core destruction to contrast the angels’ powers of creation. And Magnus bending reality to his will, simply _willing the wound away_, still left its mark, left a scar, unavoidable due to the nature of the powers he used to save his friend’s life.

Then again, Ragnor seems unbothered. According to him, a scar is a small price to pay for getting to keep his life. And also, all the better to guilt Magnus into pampering him back to health.

Though, Ragnor promptly seemed far less enthused about it all when Magnus had taken that as tacit permission to drag his friend to his loft for his recovery, unwilling to let Ragnor stay at his house while the wards might still be compromised after the demon attack. Not to even mention that Magnus might have unintentionally torched quite a bit of Ragnor’s living room before he finally managed to rein his powers fully back in.

Which, however, brings them here.

Because Magnus also just isn’t done yet.

His magic is humming beneath his skin, demanding recompense for the harm done to one of theirs, demanding vengeance. And for once in his life, Magnus is entirely inclined to follow its rather vengeful leanings.

Because Ragnor is alive, yes – and thank magic for that – but that in no way changes the fact that _Ragnor almost died,_ that someone dared to send a couple of demon critters to kill his little cabbage. The fact that they almost succeeded.

No, Magnus isn’t done yet at all.

His magic buzzes in excitement, eager and bright and unforgiving, delighted at the mayhem to come.

And usually he’d try to lock it away again, try to push it back down, to seal away these powers once more, vast and inescapable and all-encompassing as they are. But, not this time.

It seems like people might need a reminder of just how bad of an idea it is to go after those Magnus holds dear, the fact that he has never had a limit on what he is willing to do for those he calls his, what he’d do to protect them, to keep them safe. And it seems people have forgotten just what that means.

It’s a lesson he is perfectly willing to once more teach the Shadowworld in general and the Circle in particular. In detail. And with enthusiasm.

“You stay here and recover,” Magnus finally replies to Ragnor’s comment, before he lets his lips quirk up, into something bright and dangerous and vicious, “I’ll be right back.”

Ragnor grins right back, smile just as bright and far more vindictive than Magnus’ own. “Hm,” he hums. “I’d even join you if I weren’t still so high on your powers.” He lifts his hand, the blood-red magic of Magnus’ darker side sparking wildly, uncontrollably between Ragnor’s fingertips, magic that is still left over from Magnus practically shoving it into his friend’s system to save him.

It will take at least a day or so for Ragnor’s magic to once more stabilize itself, to reassert itself over the remainders of Magnus’ magic in his system, possibly longer considering the sheer amount of power Magnus forced into him.

Ragnor grins sardonically, “As it is, I am more likely to set _myself_ on fire if I were to try and join you right now.”

Magnus huffs a laugh. Seeing Ragnor so clearly fine and already back to his particular brand of sardonic humor has his heart lighten, chest tight with utter relief.

They might not see each other all that often these days, hadn’t really spoken for a decade or so before today. But, then again, what’s a couple of decades between warlocks? Thing is, no matter how long they might go without seeing each other, without even speaking, there has still always that knowledge at the back of Magnus’ mind that there is at least one person in this world who will always be on his side, who will always come to his aid if he ever asks for it, somewhere in this world where he will always be welcome. And losing that, losing Ragnor, is just utterly unfathomable to him.

Which brings him right back here.

“Well, if you can, leave a piece or two for me,” Ragnor says as he stretches luxuriously in his armchair, lips tilted into something wonderfully vindictive, “Until then, give them hell from me.”

The smile Magnus can feel spreading over his own face at that has far too many teeth to be called anything even remotely friendly. “Oh, I will,” he says as, finally stepping towards the portal. “Quite literally.”

+++

Magnus goes hunting.

He wants Valentine. Valentine who sent demons to kill Ragnor. Valentine who dared going after his little cabbage. Valentine who - in his own overinflated sense of self - forgot that, in this world full of immortal beings born of ancient magic and primordial power, one really should take care to choose their opponents wisely.

Because Magnus is simply done. Done with the Circle, done with trying to play by the Clave’s rules, done trying to keep the Downworld settled within itself, done trying to keep the peace. Not if ‘keeping the peace’ always seems to be at the Downworld’s expense, not if it means that more and more Downworlders die at the Circle’s swords while the Clave does nothing at all to stop them, if anything only ever imposing more restrictions upon the Downworld while the murderers of their brethren walk free.

His magic sparks between his fingers, delighted and bright and vindictive.

Valentine has been raining terror onto the Downworld for decades and the Clave still hasn’t gotten around to actually doing something about it. So now, Magnus will be doing it for them.

And he’d really like to see anyone try and stop him.

Finding some random Circle members to start his search with is easy.

They are like cockroaches. You just have to seek out the deepest, darkest, nastiest corner of any city and you’re sure to come across a few of Circle members scuttling about in the dark.

Magnus hunts.

It quickly turns out that Valentine isn’t actually in New York, not anymore, had either already left when Magnus started looking for him or fled the city as soon as he heard about his search. No matter. He has all the time in the world to hunt the man down and why not just clean up his own city while he’s at it.

From today onwards, Circle activity will no longer be tolerated within New York City, there will be no more leniency for any Circle members daring to walk into his city, no matter what the Clave may have to say about Magnus simply cleaning the Circle out and _keeping_ them out in the future.

So, even with Valentine having left his city, Magnus still makes use of the information he gleans from the Circle members he comes across, tears through every single one of their hideouts in New York.

Which is also how he finds Dot, held in a cage, captive on a ship in New York’s harbor.

Magnus’ fury reaches new heights.

She has been experimented on, has been made a specimen for Valentine’s twisted experiments. And she isn’t even the only Downworlder there.

Magnus calls Luke, calls Raphael, lets them know about the by-then-entirely-cleared-of-Circle-members ship in their harbor, so they can come and take care of their own, who are being held here. He takes Dot home to his loft, sticks her in the armchair opposite Ragnor’s, calls Cat to take care of them both.

And as soon as she arrives, Magnus goes back to his hunt, his wrath a living, breathing thing in his chest, magic coiling blood-red around him, dark and merciless and malignant.

He follows Valentine’s trail along the East Coast, tears apart the scattered and wide-spread, but-not-all-that-numerous hideouts he finds along the way, digs out the information he needs from the minds of any Circle members he comes across, any hesitation, any mercy he might have felt for them when he started his hunt now simply gone, having disappeared the moment he found yet another of his friends being held by Valentine, used as a test subject for the man’s fucked up experiments.

Valentine’s trail leads him to Asia, then Europe, and Magnus continues to rip through the Circle’s lairs, his magic never running low, instead glowing ever-brighter, rejoicing in the destruction, feeding on the mayhem, the unrestrained chaos they are producing.

The ship in New York is in no way the worst of what Magnus comes across along the way.

Downworlders and even mundanes being held captive, stripped of their humanity, hunted, taunted, tortured, turned into entertainment, into something of a sport. Warlocks young and old alike, drained of their magic, their warlock marks cut from their skin and displayed along the walls like hunting trophies. Vampires in cages or chained down, exposed to just enough sunlight to have them slowly burning for days, until starvation and pain and terror finally claims the last of their strength. Werewolves driven feral, until they lose themselves, until they rip themselves or their own packs apart. Seelies turned into little more than mere shells of themselves, their connection to the earth cut, fading, their deaths agonizing and slow. So many dead, mutilated bodies it is honestly staggering.

Even Magnus hadn’t quite imagined the true horrors he’d come across while tearing through the Circle’s lairs, and he already knows that some of the images of the things he finds in the dark corners of various cities around the globe will haunt him for decades to come.

Magnus may be a big advocator of giving second chances, but he has never been one for doling out mercy indiscriminately. And where the Circle is concerned, he simply has no more mercy to give.

Whenever he cleans out another hideout, he informs the local Downworld leaders of whatever city he is in, leaves it to them to take care of their own and to clean out the few stragglers that might remain of the Circle in their cities in the aftermath, as he himself continues on his search, urged on by his desire to finally put an end to it all.

He doesn’t stay alone for long.

By the second day of his hunt around the globe, Ragnor – his magic sufficiently stabilized once more – has joined him, as have a few High Warlocks from other cities and a couple of the older, more powerful vampires, all of them deciding to silently add themselves to his hunting party.

Magnus is glad for the company.

It’s a bloody few days, death following their every step. But now that he has started this, has dug up the horrors being committed in the name of race supremacy – being committed against his own but only ever against those not powerful enough to defend themselves – Magnus can’t make himself stop, can’t leave it half-finished, knows that if he were to stop now the Circle would simply be reborn from the ashes left behind.

Thankfully, he isn’t alone in that. To the contrary.

The Downworld as a whole seems determined to join in on getting rid of the Circle once and for all. By the end of the second day, most cities they appear in on their still very much Valentine-focused hunt have already started their own clean-ups by the time they ever get there, the various local Downworld factions having haphazardly banded together and are now deliberately going after any Circle activity they can find in their city.

Magnus approves.

Even more so since everyone is also smart enough not to so much as _touch_ any non-Circle Shadowhunters.

Because if they did, the Clave would promptly get itself involved. Which would truly mean war this time around. The Downworld has fully mobilized at this point and, unlike last time, they are not going to let themselves be placated into leaving the punishment of the Circle to the Clave. They already tried that once. And look where that got them.

Thankfully, for all their supremacist rhetoric, the Clave wants to avoid all-out war with the Downworld as much as they themselves do.

So, as long as they stick to exclusively taking out Valentine’s zealots, avoid giving any of the more extreme Clave members a platform from which to demand retaliation, the Clave will likely just continue pretending not to notice what’s going on. It suits everyone just fine.

There is a moment when Magnus and his group are about to collectively step through another set of portals – this time leading from Bangkok to Moskow, sometime between day two and day three of ‘The Clean-Up’, as they’ve started calling it – where Magnus finds himself unexpectedly thinking of Alexander.

Well, maybe not so unexpectedly, seeing as the lovely Shadowhunter has been occupying his thoughts pretty much ever since he first laid eyes on him.

Alexander who is still in New York, the lovely, dedicated, adorable Shadowhunter who Magnus has felt so drawn to since they first met, who he hasn’t been able to get out of his head ever since their first introductions that day at his loft, taking out a Circle member, turning and seeing the gorgeous Shadowhunter standing in the doorway behind him. Magnus has been utterly caught ever since seeing that bashful but endearingly pleased smile on Alexander’s face, barely a few seconds, so clearly surprised at having Magnus’ attention at all, Alexander’s guard down in a way Magnus hasn’t seen from him since.

Alexander who Magnus had so hoped he might be able to have a chance with.

Alexander who is, however, getting married to someone else today.

Magnus almost wants to sigh at the thought.

He _tried_, he truly did, had put all his cards on the table. But Alexander still chose differently.

Magnus can’t even begrudge him his choice, if anything he honestly admires Alexander’s dedication to his duties, rather adores his devotion to those dear to him, Alexander’s loyalty to his family endlessly attractive to Magnus. Which doesn’t change the fact that Magnus had still hoped for some last-minute miracle possibly giving him a chance with the lovely Shadowhunter after all.

Magnus makes himself push the thought away, forces his focus back on the task at hand as he finally follows the others through the portal to yet another country.

He tried. And the choice had always been Alexander’s.

Valentine makes his stand in an old church somewhere in the south of Italy, a large group of his Circle gathered around him.

It’s the third day of Magnus’ search and a few more Downworlders have silently added themselves to his hunting party along the way. It’s still only vampires so ancient even Magnus can’t guess at their age and the sort of casually truly powerful warlocks that are so very rare even for their race, mostly because they seem to be the only ones able to bear the oppressive, all-encompassing, vicious magic that Magnus is constantly radiating for any extended amount of time.

Point is, Valentine’s gathered group is rather laughably outmatched, not much of a hindrance at all, neither to Magnus, nor to the group of Downworlders around him.

When only Valentine himself is left, Magnus pauses for barely a moment.

“You should have known better than to go after those who are mine,” he says calmly, magic coiling blood-red and malicious around him, the air heavy with it, bright sparks of unrestrained power crackling along its winding coils, jumping between his fingertips.

Valentine doesn’t say anything in reply, probably knows it won’t change anything at this point. He just lifts his sword, lips twisted in disgust, eyes alight with terror.

It is over within seconds.

To his credit, Valentine doesn’t beg for mercy, not even right before his end. It wouldn’t have made a difference to Magnus either way.

Valentine forfeited any second chances life might still have allotted him, the very moment he dared to go after those Magnus calls his.

* * *

Like everyone else in Idris or at the Institutes around the world, Alec and his family only hear about the end of the Circle when things are already well underway.

By then, Magnus Bane has already left New York behind – has torn through all of Valentine’s footholds in their city – and has finished cleaning up most of the East coast, having moved on to Asia at that point, already on his second day of tearing through the Circle’s forces.

No one knows what set him off, but it quickly becomes clear that New York’s High Warlock is very deliberately going after the Circle, and based on the rather random pattern of his appearances in various cities around the globe, seems to be specifically looking for something. Or someone.

No one so much as doubts that it’s Valentine himself Magnus is hunting. Even if no one can quite figure out _why_.

However, once the Clave finally realizes what is happening, things quickly descend into chaos.

Especially once the rest of the Downworld decides to throw in their lot with New York’s High Warlock, seeming to take Magnus’ attack on the Circle as a sort of signal to join him in going after Valentine’s people, collectively just done with letting themselves be hunted in turn.

Not one of them cares to ask the Clave for permission.

Alec doesn’t even blame them. The Clave had decades to take care of Valentine but was happy to leave things as they were, only ever concerned with doing _just enough_ to appease the Downworld into not declaring all-out war against them, but never bothering to take action beyond that. They didn’t care what Valentine got up to in the meantime, left him to build up his forces, never even bothered to investigate the many suspicious Downworlder disappearances over the years.

Honestly, anyone with half a brain has been perfectly aware that it has only ever been a question of time before either the Circle achieved its goal of worldwide Downworlder elimination or until the Downworld simply had enough and decided to make their stand.

It seems the latter came true.

So, for anyone to be acting all surprised at the Downworld’s ‘sudden’ retaliation now, speaks either of a catastrophic lack of awareness or a truly breathtaking level of stupidity.

If anything, Alec thinks they should be grateful that Magnus and the rest of the Downworld are keeping their ire so solely focused on _only_ Circle members. And the Clave clearly agrees, seeing as they promptly – and of course ‘coincidentally’ – order all Shadowhunters back to the Institutes or to Idris, missions being suspended for the moment. The ‘do not interfere’ order is never actually given, but the sentiment is still pretty damn clear.

However, uncertain how the situation might yet develop, all Institutes also immediately start battening down the hatches, trying to reinforce their defenses, preparing themselves for a possible attack from the Downworld. Just in case.

_Load of good that is going to do us while going up against the very warlocks who cast the wards protecting our Institutes_, Alec thinks sardonically even as he initiates the lockdown of the New York Institute.

Then again, he also isn’t really worried. Not if the Clave’s main worry is whether Magnus might be planning to start murdering his way through the Shadowhunter Institutes around the globe once he is done with the Circle.

Magnus might currently be putting the fear of magic into the Clave as a whole, but the mere idea of him coming after Shadowhunters in general ‘just because’ seems honestly laughable to Alec. The one thing he knows Magnus very much isn’t is hateful or heartless. To the contrary. Alec has never met anyone with a heart and mind quite as open as Magnus’.

No, if Magnus is hunting Valentine then he likely has a good reason_. _

_I mean, it’s **Valentine**. That alone should be reason enough_, he thinks with an inward shrug.

So, yes, Alec isn’t really all that worried.

Actually, he is in a rather good mood, as much as he tries not to make that too obvious to everyone else, seeing as they are currently in a sort-of-crisis, the balance of their world shifting into something new.

He still can’t help it.

His good mood mostly stems from the fact that, in the middle of this entire mess, Alec and Lydia’s wedding got postponed, on the day _of_, no less. Simply because no one has time for festivities right now.

However, the intense, utter, _breathless_ relief that immediately rushed through Alec at the news that his wedding wouldn’t be taking place, the fact that he was so fervently grateful for a worldwide crisis – a crisis with the definite potential of turning into all-out war between the factions of the Shadowworld – just because it gave him an excuse to delay getting married… It finally had Alec acknowledge some truths about himself that he had always pushed down, pushed aside, pushed away until then.

Well, at least he acknowledged them _to himself_. And to Lydia. Because she deserved that much at least.

He went to talk to her, was entirely honest about everything.

Lydia had just smiled, told him he deserves to be happy, thanked him for not leaving her at the altar, and then promptly asserted that she still expects him to fight for the position of Institute Heads right beside her, whether they are actually getting married or not.

Alec had let his lips tilt into a grin, nodded, and said he’d get right on it as soon as this current crisis is solved. She had grinned back. Which had apparently been that.

They agreed to let their engagement simply fade out of everyone’s mind, not to make a big thing of it, decided to just not set a new date for their wedding now that it had already been postponed.

Alec can finally breathe again.

There is a part of him that is honestly tempted to just call Magnus. Call and ask what’s going on, maybe ask whether something happened to make him start going after the Circle so very viciously and so very effectively. Ask whether he maybe needs some help with that.

And while he’s at it, Alec could then also possibly mention the fact that he isn’t getting married anymore, that he doesn’t intend to get married to _anyone_ in the near future. Well, at least not in the very near future, and not to a woman, and most certainly not for any political reasons. You know, just casually mention his broken off engagement in conversation. Offhandedly. As small talk. Which Alec has been reliably informed, people supposedly do.

So what if there is a worldwide crisis going on and instead of considering said crisis Alec is mainly preoccupied with contemplating whether it would be weird if he gave Magnus a call or not…

_Well, I certainly got my priorities in order, don’t I? _Alec thinks sardonically_._

+++

Alec and every single other Shadowhunter around the world continue to watch as the situation unfolds further, watch as more and more Downworlders join the hunt for the Circle, as reports of never-seen-before magic - tearing through wards, tearing through people - start coming in, as never-heard-of-before, ridiculously powerful warlocks come wandering out of the Labyrinth, as supposedly-dead-for-a-couple-of-centuries vampires make sudden reappearances from angel-only-knows-where.

Thing is, with how Magnus Bane had torn through Valentine’s forces as though they were no obstacle to him at all right from the start, before anyone ever joined up with him, even then the Clave hadn’t quite dared to step in his way, no matter how much it irks them to see a Downworlder enact justice against nephilim – disavowed as Valentine and his followers may be – something they have always demanded be left to them until now.

So now that an entire group of truly powerful Downworlders has formed around New York’s High Warlock, now that the entire Downworld seems so intent on doing their part in cleaning out the Circle, the Clave doesn’t even pretend to be contemplating stepping in any longer.

They don’t want war, and they most certainly don’t want to _start_ a war while the Downworld is already fully mobilized. Thankfully, going by the way the Downworld seems to be rather explicitly avoiding going after any Clave-loyal Shadowhunters, clearly they are on the same page.

Everyone is glad for it.

Because war would be a bloodbath on all sides, while solving absolutely nothing. Shadowhunters and Downworlders would die by the hundreds, by the _thousands_, until only the truly powerful and those hiding themselves away in their individual realms or in Idris would remain. Nothing whatsoever would actually change.

So, no. No one wants a war.

Although, the one question that does remain is just what could have possibly set Magnus Bane – the clear instigator of the current worldwide upheaval – off in the first place. Whether it’s something they should specifically avoid repeating, lest they unintentionally set him off again in the future.

All they know is that Magnus Bane started taking down the Circle in New York, and that, within hours, the Downworld decided to join him in the endeavor, clearly taking the opportunity of one of the truly powerful Downworlders finally having enough, collectively joining his campaign of ridding the world of the festering cancer that is Valentine and his Circle.

They all wonder, even if no one quite dares demand answer yet.

Well, they wonder, right until Jace mentions rather offhandedly that, oh, maybe it might have something to do with the death of Magnus’ friend that he and Clary witnessed.

Which is the first time Alec hears about the fact that Ragnor Fell - who Clary, Jace, and Magnus had sought out for his help with waking Jocelyn - apparently died three days ago, killed by demons that had been sent to follow the three of them to Fell’s residence.

Meaning not only that there is a traitor amongst them who tipped Valentine off about their plans to visit Ragnor Fell at all, but also that his parabatai has known all along what might have been behind Magnus going after Valentine at all. He apparently kept it to himself because he is convinced that Lydia is the traitor who told Valentine.

Alec honestly just wants to smack his parabatai.

He immediately turns right around and informs the Clave, tells them that there is every chance that this is simply personal vengeance being enacted, that Valentine made the mistake to go after the wrong warlock and that Magnus is now hunting the man who killed one of his oldest friends, that he likely doesn’t have any intention of going after anyone who wasn’t involved in his friend’s death.

Every Shadowhunter worldwide breathes a cautious sigh of relief at that.

Alec can even admit there is something about that, something about Magnus’ fury at someone going after one of his friends, something about him apparently being willing to tear the world apart in retaliation. There is just something about that sort of devotion that has Alec feeling rather…

He blinks. Makes himself focus.

_Yeah, not going there. _

At least not now. Not yet.

+++

Valentine finally dies somewhere in Europe.

The Downworld rejoices, most Shadowhunters breathe a sigh of relief, they themselves having gotten rather sick of the Circle and the messes they kept creating for everyone else to deal with, and the Clave watches suspiciously what Magnus Bane and the group of rather powerful Downworlders that has formed around him might do next.

The ease with which they have been wiping the Circle off the map has been making the higher-ups in the Clave more than a little twitchy, and now that even Valentine, supposedly one of the Clave’s best before he went down the path of zealous insanity, has been taken out... Then again, racial supremacy is so very hard to insist upon when even your strongest fighters keep dropping like flies.

All the while, the remainders of the Circle panic.

Alec’s assertion about Magnus not going after anyone other than Circle members is confirmed quickly, when New York’s High Warlock simply returns home soon after, apparently content with having cleaned up his city and with having cut off the snake’s head. However, the rest of the Downworld keeps going after whatever remains of the Circle in their various cities.

Magnus Bane started it, the rest of the Downworld finishes it in their own corners of the world.

By the time Magnus Bane returns to New York, Circle members have already started giving themselves up to the Clave in a desperate bid for their lives, trying to escape the wrath of the Downworlders suddenly hunting them so mercilessly.

The tables have turned.

There is no safe place for Circle members anymore, no place to hide, nowhere to stay safe. Whatever remains of the Circle scrambles for safety, even if that means a life-time spent in the Clave’s dungeons.

It takes all of four days for it to be over.

And suddenly, the chapter of terror and genocide that has plagued their world for several decades now is simply closed.

+++

After everything is said and done, the Clave scrambles for resolutions on how to handle the aftermath. There is a certain sort of desperation about them as they flounder.

Sure, they want to punish the Downworlders who dared kill any nephilim – traitors to the Clave or not – and they especially want to go after the warlock who started it all. But then again, after Magnus tore through quite a bit of the Circle by himself before he was ever joined by others, simply because he decided enough was enough, even the most hardcore Downworlders-are-beneath-us Clave members are more interested in making sure that Magnus might not decide to take the same approach to the rest of the Clave.

Especially, as the Downworld on a whole makes it very clear just how bad of an idea it would be to go after Magnus.

High Warlocks from all over the world, vampire clan leaders, werewolf alphas, seelie representatives, make their allegiance pretty damn clear. They stand with Magnus Bane. And they will go to war in case the Clave dares so much as threaten retaliation him – or any other Downworlder for that matter – for cleaning up their mess.

So, the Clave does what they do best. They look the other way.

+++

Alec stares straight ahead, somewhere into the middle distance, entirely preoccupied with his thoughts.

He is wandering New York’s streets, having finished his patrol a while ago already, but just not wanting to go back yet. He has too many things to think about. It’s dark at this point, night having fallen, and the city around him illuminated with countless lights.

Alec doesn’t really notice.

His thoughts are circling.

It’s been two days since the Circle was officially declared a non-entity, due to the only Circle members still alive at this point being held in Idris’ dungeons, awaiting trial. Either way, even those who might not be executed for their crimes, none of them will dare step foot outside of Idris again. At the very least not for a couple of years until things have settled once more.

Like his parents, who haven’t dared leave Idris ever since this all started. The Downworld hadn’t gone specifically after any Shadowhunters who are known for having switched allegiances beforehand. But best not risk getting caught in the current, still somewhat volatile situation, by wandering around and flaunting their freedom.

But that isn’t what has Alec so preoccupied right now. It’s something else, something related but also so much worse.

Hodge was arrested.

A Fire Message had been sent to the Clave, accusing Hodge of having been working directly for Valentine and having actually been the one to give up Ragnor Fell’s location. Which would make Hodge indirectly responsible for the subsequent attack on Ragnor Fell’s home, and thereby also for Magnus so very effectively enacting his revenge for anyone having gone after his friend.

Alec would have scoffed at the mere idea of Hodge ever doing anything of the sort.

If it weren’t for the fact that in his terror of possibly having Fell and Magnus go after him the same way they did Valentine, Hodge had promptly confessed to everything. Working for Valentine, feeding him intel, using his position so close to Alec’s family – the Heads of the New York Institute – to gather more information to pass on, manipulating things in Valentine’s favor, sending the wrong people on specific missions to ensure the Circle would be facing less opposition whenever they clashed with the Institute’s Shadowhunters.

Hodge had confessed to everything, gave himself up, well-aware he would be taken to Idris to await his trial there, clearly assuming that his chances at survival would still be better in Idris than if he were to stay in the city of the High Warlock who had hunted the most feared criminal in their world clean around the globe to satisfy his personal vengeance.

Alec hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t seen the betrayal coming at all. Neither had the rest of his family.

Turns out, the man who helped raise Alec and his siblings is a traitor. Twice over.

_Yet another person I trusted turning out to be anything but worth my trust_, he thinks numbly as he stares up at the dark sky.

Alec had watched as Hodge was led away in cuffs, Izzy’s grip around his wrist tightening in mirrored shock and confused anger, Jace’s face a mask of fury at his other side, all three of them floundering at finding their family betrayed by someone they trusted without question.

What is Alec supposed to do with the fact that three of the people in his life who he trusted explicitly, turned out to be genocidal zealots in the end. That all the laws and guidelines and role models he built his own beliefs upon are turning out to be mere shadow fronts, hiding a truly abhorrent lack of character underneath.

Because if his parents are not nearly the Shadowhunters he always thought they were, if those who raised him are traitors to everything he believes in, if even the Clave itself is now turning out to be so much _less_ than Alec had always imagined, railing against Downworlders for going after nephilim – never mind that the Circle had most certainly deserved being hunted down – and now even arguing whether they can use the law to somehow justify punishing any Downworlders involved for their ‘audacity’ but so far not quite daring to do so out of fear, out of cowardice…

It goes against everything Alec ever thought they stood for.

‘The law is hard, but it is the law’ has been one of the foundations upon which he built his very sense of self. For the Clave to so suddenly be willing to ignore their own, so very defining adage just because it suits them at the moment…

_No one_ should get to pick and choose which laws to follow, much less trying to _use_ them as you please against others.

If there _is_ ever a point in time, a situation that reveals a flaw in the law governing them, somewhere where the law turns out lacking, then you _change_ it, you make it _better_. You don’t just get to bend the law to fit your personal agenda, and then just ignore it afterwards, just proceed on like nothing changed.

It’s the exact kind of thinking that Alec has always abhorred.

Clearly, his parents and those he trusts and the Clave itself, aren’t _enough_, their take on what is right or wrong, what _should_ be done, what should be _fought_ for, simply not being good enough for Alec anymore. At all.

So, he has spent the past couple of days thinking, reevaluating, reassessing, himself and everything around him, has been trying to wrap his head around the recent shifts, everything that has been revealed.

He thinks he’s even been getting somewhere.

Sure, he doesn’t yet have it all figured out, quite a number of things where he isn’t sure whether his conviction of something being the truth is his own or simply comes from what he has been taught ever since he was a child. But he is at a point where he at least has a number of things he finds to be immutably true about himself and what he wants to stand for, just as many things that he finds utterly unacceptable, and loads of stuff somewhere in the grey area in between.

Though, he likely isn’t going to get any further with his internal debates at this point. He is fully aware that going through everything, to question anything he has been taught from childhood on, is likely going to be a lengthy process, will likely take quite some time. Still, he’ll get there.

Although, there is _one_ thing he wants to change, about himself, about the way the world sees him, about the way he himself gets to live. As soon as possible.

See, if the guidelines given to him by his parents and by the Clave aren’t good enough anymore to tell him what the true Shadowhunter way is supposed to be, then they most certainly aren’t good enough to tell him _anything_ where his personal life is concerned.

So.

If he is going to reassess everything he knows, everything he is, everything he wants in his life… Well, then he might as well include _all_ of himself in that. Including getting what he has wanted ever since that day he and his siblings tracked Magnus’ to his loft wanting his help. Ever since the pretty warlock – who had just taken out a Circle member with ease – turned around to face him, looked at Alec, _saw_ him, and _smiled_.

Yes, if Alec has any say in it, he would quite like to have that smile be part of his life.

He pauses, knows that isn’t the entire truth.

_Correction_, he thinks, breathes out slowly, bracingly. _If I have any say in it, I’d quite like that smile to be **mine**. _

Another moment of pause.

And then, he nods to himself, turns his feet in the general direction of Brooklyn, starts determinedly making his way towards Magnus’ place.

What happened with Valentine and Magnus hunting the man around the globe and – unintentionally – starting a sort-of-revolution of the Downworld along the way, simply doesn’t factor into any of it for Alec. He might be a Lightwood, the heir to one of the old Shadowhunter lines, which does come with its own powers. But he has never been deluded enough to think that Magnus wasn’t always vastly more powerful, vastly more experienced, vastly more influential than Alec himself. The fact that Magnus proved those facts so recently to the entire Shadowworld quite simply makes no difference to him.

So.

He might as well go stop by the loft right now, see if Magnus will even be interested in talking to Alec at all. And if he is, then maybe they can get a drink together like they did that before. You know, that time after they had saved Luke, before Alec ever proposed to Lydia, when he and Magnus had just talked for hours. That time when Alec had fallen asleep on the warlock’s couch.

Only this time, if he were to fall asleep on Magnus’ couch again after a couple of drinks, he definitely wouldn’t run away in the morning like his very life depended on getting away as quickly as he possibly could.

_To the contrary._ His lips twist into a sardonic, wry sort of grin. _This time around, I might just ask whether I could maybe stay a little longer._

He blinks up at the familiar building suddenly towering in front of him, the way across town to get here having passed surprisingly quickly, preoccupied as he was. Though he is glad to note that the lights in Magnus’ loft are definitely on, visible even from where Alec is still standing on the street below.

Another bracing breath in. Before he determinedly makes his way into the building.

_No time like the present to start turning my life upside down, is there. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don’t really know what this is. This didn’t turn out at all as I had planned, and everyone turned out at the very least somewhat ooc...
> 
> I originally just had this thought of ‘but what if Magnus hadn’t let Ragnor’s death just slide…’. But then I couldn’t help myself and saved Ragnor, so no clue where the subsequent vengeful murder spree came from, not to even mention how dark this turned out in some places. But once I started writing I kept recalling things like Valentine’s experiments and the torture and the murdered Downworlders and so on, and it seemed kind of weird how canon kind of just ignored (?) it all. Then again, there can never be enough BAMF Magnus :3
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	25. Double-edged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec hates the Clave, loathing in his heart whenever he thinks of the hypocrites ruling Idris, the people who condemned his parents to their deaths. Most days, he hates the Clave more than he hates even the Circle, the ones who dealt the actual killing blows. - Or, the one where the Ligthwoods didn’t leave the Circle before Alec was born, instead only left several years later, grabbing the Mortal Cup on their way out. (Alec-starts-a-worldwide-revolution AU)

** _Run, Alec._ **

_His mother’s words are echoing in his head, urgent and commanding, wavering a little just as it had when she gasped out those words on one of her last breaths._

** _Take Izzy and run._ **

_But Alec can’t move. All he can do is stare sightlessly at his own hands, streaked in red, both of them wrapped around one of his mom’s, her hand in his now slack, not holding on to his any longer._

** _Don’t look back, don’t trust anyone. _ **

_They are in a dark alley somewhere, in a city Alec has never been in before, his mom having dragged them here, running with him and Izzy, trying to get them somewhere, somewhere close to here, somewhere where they were going to have help, somewhere safe. Alec doesn’t know where they had been going, and now he can’t ask. Not anymore. Not with his mother entirely still, leaning against one of the alley walls, blood darkening the front of her shirt, her eyes closed. _

_Izzy is pressed into his side, crying, her hands entirely red from where she had been trying to figure out what was wrong with their mother, now clutching at the box Mom had pressed into her hands just minutes ago, almost too large for Izzy’s small hands to hold. _

** _Run, Alec_ ** _, it echoes. _

_Alec is numb. _

_His mom is _the strongest_, he knows that for a fact. No one can beat her. But now, she isn’t moving, isn’t even breathing anymore, the hand held in both of his entirely slack. And Alec _knows_ what this is, knows what it means, knows she isn’t going to get up again, had been taught about death in his very first lesson with his parents once he started his Shadowhunter training. _

_But. His mom is supposed to be unbeatable. _

_There is a scuffing sound and Alec makes himself glance over, makes himself shake off the numbness, the lethargy. _

_His chest tightens in fear at the sight that greets him at the entrance to the alley they’re in._

_There are three men staring into the alley, three men who Alec _knows_, knows them from Alicante, knows they are Shadowhunters just like his parents, colleagues his father called them._

_But they had also been there _earlier_, when his parents had been cornered and Valentine had wounded Mom and then Dad had thrown himself at Valentine and his group in a fury, letting Mom get away with Alec and Izzy._

_Alec swallows._

_The men have found them again. _

_“We found them,” one of them yells backwards, something scary in his eyes, grins forming on their faces as they start moving into the alley towards where Alec and Izzy are still kneeling next to their mom. _

** _Take Izzy and run._ **

_Alec tightens his hands around his mom’s, a silent, desperate plea for her to get up, to help, to run with them again. Even though he knows it won’t do any good. His mom isn’t getting up again._

_Another breath, chest tight, mouth trembling, eyes stinging. _

_But he is the oldest now, it’s _his_ job to protect Izzy now. He can’t afford to cry anymore. _

_Just another second of holding tight to his mom’s hand. _

_He lets go._

_Reaches for Izzy instead, pulls her upwards with him as he stands, eyes fixed on the three Shadowhunters coming closer, wandering casually into the alley, as though nothing were wrong, their grins widening when they see his mother entirely unmoving against the wall. _

_And for the first time in his life, Alec _hates_. _

_He feels his own eyes narrowing, the need to cry entirely gone now as he watches the three men, his fingers curling into fists, even as he remains halfway in front of Izzy the entire time, blocks her from the men’s eyes greedily fixed on the box in Izzy’s hands, smeared with their mom’s blood._

_Two more men appear at the entrance to the alley, joining the other three, and Alec knows there is no way Izzy and him would be able to get out of here past all five of them._

_“Why don’t you hand me that, Isabelle,” one of the Shadowhunters is saying, the smile on his face false, empty, nauseating almost, sending something like a shiver down Alec’s spine. “It must be so heavy for you.”_

_Alec doesn’t even have to look at Izzy to know that her mouth will have tilted down mulishly in reaction, eyes still red from crying but fixed angrily on the men wanting the box their mom had given her, telling her not to ever let anyone find it, her small hands only clutching tighter at it. _

_By the way she is holding on to it, the box does seem to be heavy, almost too heavy for her to hold at all. And Alec would take it in her stead, would help her carry their mom’s box. But he needs his hands free. Just in case._

_The man’s face darkens and he is opening his mouth to say something else._

_He never gets the chance before an odd whooshing sound off to the side calls all of their attention. A colorful glow from the darkness deeper into the alley, a portal springing up out of nowhere. **Magic**, Alec thinks, a sudden surge of hope in his chest. Because his parents’ colleagues don’t like magic. At all._

_And then, a man is stepping through the portal into the alley, his posture casual but his eyes narrowed, immediately focused on the scene in front of him, sweeping them all with a quick glance. He looks completely different from anyone Alec has ever seen in Alicante. Too colorful, too bright._

_Barely a second as he clearly takes them all in. “What do we have here?” he then asks slowly, curiously, sounding cheerful even if his eyes look anything but. _

_The five Shadowhunters have already halfway spun around, slightly away from Alec in order to face the speaker fully, features twisting at the sight of him. _

_“Bane!” one of them spits, loathing in his voice._

_Alec tightens his hand around Izzy’s wrist. These Shadowhunters don’t like this man. That’s good. That’s really good._

_“Indeed,” the man confirms, still cheerful, eyes sweeping across them all again, catching briefly on his mom where she is still leaning, his mouth tilting down at the sight of her still unmoving, still gone, then focuses on Alec and Izzy for a few seconds, where they are standing next to her against the wall of the alley. _

_The man’s eyes narrow further as he returns his focus to the Shadowhunters. “Going after defenseless children now, are we? Tsk, tsk,” he shakes his head. “And here was me thinking you lot couldn’t get any more abhorrent than you already were.” _

_“This doesn’t concern you, Bane,” one of the Shadowhunters snarls. A pause. A twisted smirk. “But if you insist on messing with Circle business, we’ll gladly get rid of you right alongside these two brats.” _

_There is nothing friendly in the man’s – **the warlock’s**, Alec’s mind corrects – smile now. “Oh, you can most certainly try,” he returns lazily. A head tilt, something dark shimmering through his eyes. “You really should know better than to hunt so close to my home. I don’t take well to vermin dirtying my part of the city.”_

_The sound of seraph blades being drawn, even as magic instantly sparks in the alley, blue mist gathering around the man’s hands, dancing like flames in the air, filling the alley with a soothing glow. The warlock glances at Alec and Izzy again, before focusing fully on the Shadowhunters in front of him. **Cat eyes**, Alec thinks to himself, can’t help the slight burst of wonder at the sight. _

_“How about I give you lot another lesson right now,” the warlock says, feet shifting into something Alec recognizes as a fighting pose. “Maybe then you’ll remember to _stay the hell out of Brooklyn_.” _

_The Shadowhunters are all focused fully on the warlock with the blue magic and the golden eyes. No one is looking at Alec and Izzy anymore._

_It’s their chance to get away._

** _Run, Alec_ ** _, his mom’s voice echoes once more.** Take Izzy and run.**_

_So, Alec does, grasps Izzy’s wrist, and then he runs._

_Izzy doesn’t hesitate, as always following the tug of his hand, runs right alongside him, past the adults, towards the exit of the alley._

_He ignores the voice calling after him, ignores the sound of sparking magic, the sight of a glimmering shield around Alec and Izzy as they rush past the Shadowhunters between them and the exit, ignores the sound of a sword clashing against the barrier, even ignores the clatter of their mom’s box falling to the ground as Izzy loses hold of it, ignores everything aside from getting away, protecting Izzy. Nothing else matters. _

_They stumble out of the alley, onto the street, keep on running, never pausing._

_Alec runs, Izzy’s hand held fast in his._

_He runs._

_And runs._

_And runs. _

_And-_

Alec sits bolt-upright with a quiet gasp.

He blinks against the darkness, blanket pooling around his waist as he blearily takes in the familiar fuzzy grey shapes of his own room in Alicante.

A second.

Then, he closes his eyes, makes himself breathe through it, through the adrenaline of the dream, the memory that seeks him out so very frequently ever since he was eight. A reminder.

He knew he wasn’t going to sleep all that well tonight, tomorrow’s mission, knowing he will be going to New York of all places, seeing to him barely having been able to fall asleep in the first place.

Beside him, he can feel Izzy shifting slightly in reaction to Alec’s sudden movement, and he reaches out to set a calming hand on the covers over her back. She immediately settles once more, reassured. It’s not like they aren’t both used to one – or even both – of them being woken by nightmares. Neither of them is a particularly deep sleeper anymore.

It’s been more than a decade, almost fifteen years now, since that day. The day when his parents had decided to leave the Circle, to betray Valentine, only for them to be betrayed by the Clave in turn. The day that turned Alec and Izzy’s lives upside down.

The memory of his mother’s death is as fresh as ever in his mind. Alec never let himself forget her last moments, replaying the memory over and over and over, until every detail was burned in behind his eyelids.

Sure, most of that day is fuzzy, moments melding together, especially while running with his mom.

Back then, he had been too young to truly understand everything that had been going on, only knew that his parents had dragged Izzy and Alec from their beds in the middle of the night, and then running, running, running. He remembers the standoff, his parents with Alec and Izzy on one side, so so many Circle members on the other. Remembers Valentine himself making an appearance, remembers the man doing _something_, both his parents yelling in pain, hands clutching at the Circle runs burned into their skin, remembers Valentine using their distraction to attack Mom, her being wounded. Remembers his father, looking dark and furious and wrathful in a way Alec had never seen before, as he threw himself at Valentine and his people yelling at Mom to run, buying them enough time to get away.

Alec runs a hand down his face, dead-tired but knowing he won’t be able to fall asleep again tonight. He never does after this particular dream.

It always sends his mind circling around the memories and everything he learned in the years after about what had really been going on.

When the two of them had run from that alley – leaving their mom behind, fleeing from the Circle members who had found them, using the chance of finding themselves so unexpectedly protected by a warlock – they had been determined to stay away, to not let anyone find them. Just like their mother had told them to.

But they had been children, Alec eight and Izzy five, with no idea how to survive outside of Idris, barely knew anything at all about the mundane world, and they definitely didn’t know how to protect themselves from being tracked by anyone who might get their hands on one of the many personal items they had left behind in their home in Alicante.

These days, Alec is almost impressed at their kid selves for having made it for almost three weeks before anyone managed to find them, although it wasn’t Valentine’s people but rather Clave Shadowhunters that time around. Something to be admittedly grateful for. Not only because Alec doesn’t even want to imagine what life with the Circle would have been like as children of traitors to Valentine’s cause. But also because the Clave didn’t know about the box.

Or rather, the Mortal Cup.

It didn’t take Alec and Izzy all that long to figure out just what had been in that box. Not with how numerous Shadowhunters kept on asking about it, endless, supposedly casual inquiries from various people whether they might have seen their parents taking something with them as they fled, carrying a box or maybe even something that looked like a chalice of some sort.

No one knows. And even as children, Alec and Izzy never admitted to anything, claimed ignorance, never so much as mentioned the box, never even spoke of it with each other in case someone else might be listening in.

It seems, no one is entirely certain whether it was truly their parents who stole the Cup from Valentine, who in turn had stolen it from the Clave the day before his parents’ defection.

It might have taken Alec and Izzy a couple of years, but they managed to piece together a mostly full picture of everything that had happened back then. It had been a combination of research and memories, memories of hearing their parents talking, his mom and dad never really bothering to protect Alec and Izzy from hearing them talk even while they were children, convinced that ‘if they are old enough to understand what we are saying, then they are old enough to hear it’. Which, okay, maybe not the most popular adage for raising children but, these days, Alec is rather glad for it.

Because in the years after, Alec and Izzy had just enough fragments of information to know what to look for, where to dig and what information to search for. So, as soon as Alec was old enough to gain access to the Clave’s archives, the puzzle pieces had quickly fit together into a full picture.

A picture that confirmed their previous knowledge of their parents having been with the Circle, but something having happened that they apparently thought went too far, so much so that they had decided to betray Valentine and give him up to the Clave in exchange for protection.

Only for them to be betrayed by the Clave in turn, taking the information their parents had offered, giving them away as traitors to the Circle, but then not offering them the protection they had been promised.

Alec may detest the Circle, for their views on the world, their willingness to murder for their own ideals. He may hate Valentine personally for taking his parents’ lives. But neither has anything on the utter loathing he feels when thinking about the Clave, their double-standards, their bigotry, their hypocrisy.

He sighs out, carefully gets out of bed so as to not wake Izzy. Who isn’t even supposed to be here, seeing how everyone is always so disapproving of how close Alec and Izzy are. The two of them stopped even pretending to care about everyone else’s opinion on the matter before they ever reached their teens.

Izzy and Alec are a unit. That’s all there is to it.

Well, them and Jace of course.

Jace who they met just a few years after returning to Alicante, when the Circle killed Jace’s dad and he found himself an orphan as well. The three of them hit it off right away, and they have been inseparable since.

There is snuffling from the pullout couch that Alec and Jace had set up in here years ago, without asking anyone for permission. But they are parabatai, they get away with that sort of thing.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that Alec or Izzy have ever been treated particularly badly by the Clave. It might not a particularly great way to grow up as orphans of known traitors, but it also hasn’t truly hindered them, their parents’ sins not being held against them. When the Clave took them in, they were treated just like any other orphans, being raised without any real family but also without anyone taking it out on them. Of course, there are mutters sometimes, people hissing barbs at them in the corridors from time to time, pointed comments even from Clave members to poke at their family’s history.

But they learned to deal. They have each other and that will always be more than enough.

Which isn’t even mentioning the fact that Alec had still been the Lightwood heir, no matter how much some people might have wished he weren’t.

A status that had been perfectly protected, untouched by anyone who might want to take it from him or even just take influence on him. If for no other reason than that the _other_ old lines would never let anyone interfere with an heir for fear of someone using that as a precedent in the future.

The old lines have power in Idris. A lot of it.

Alec only realized _how much_, once he reached his majority and took over as the Lightwood head of house.

Although, that power quickly became a rather essential part of his plan on how to get himself, his sister, and his parabatai out from under the Clave’s thumb.

Don’t get him wrong, he has been taught right, the Clave affording him and Izzy the same education as any other Shadowhunter-in-training, and Alec honestly can’t even imagine doing anything other than hunting demons and protecting mundanes. But. He’ll be damned if he remains living under Clave rule any longer than he has to.

Him and Izzy and Jace have long since decided that they are going to do their own thing. And it’s not just them either. They grew up in Alicante, amongst all the other young Shadowhunters.

The three of them have spent the past years gathering allies, putting resources aside, talking to other Shadowhunters.

Turns out, they certainly aren’t alone in their dissatisfaction with the Clave, especially the younger generations of Shadowhunters not at all pleased with how things are being handled, especially where the handling of the Circle is concerned, or how the Downworld’s ever-growing discontent due to unfair rulings is being handled, not being afforded any recourse against those murdering their kind.

The old generation has been content in their position of ‘being better’ than Valentine, happy to have someone else to point fingers at whenever anything goes wrong. And they seem entirely disinterested in actually _bettering_ themselves instead of just resting on the rather dubious title of not being the worst.

It’s just not good enough anymore.

Sure, Alec could probably make a difference working from _within_ the Clave. If he used everything at his disposal, his power, his allies, if he put his all into it, he could probably affect change towards something a little less abhorrent than it is right now. However, Alec isn’t content with _maybe_ changing a couple of laws, with _maybe_ forcing the Clave to act a little more fair where Downworlders are concerned, a little less bigoted, a little less unconcerned with lives being taken, a little less indifferent to the deaths of those they are supposed to protect.

No.

Alec wants something entirely new.

He doesn’t want to have to contend with fighting for laws that are less bigoted. He wants laws that are fair.

He doesn’t want to argue for the Clave’s rulings to be less unjust. He wants rulings that are deserved, wants the guilty punished and the innocents walking free.

He doesn’t want to work for an organization that touts its own grandness for not being the worst. He wants to live forever striving to be the best.

The Clave just isn’t good enough anymore. At all.

Alec, Izzy, and Jace decided years ago that they want to build something different, something better, something new.

Which - in principle - isn’t even anywhere near as impossible as one might think.

See, Raziel might have made Shadowhunters, might have given them their powers, might have assigned them to forever fight off any demons crossing into their world. But there is no angel-given law that so much as mentions the Clave or any supposed authority they should be afforded over Shadowhunters in general. The Clave is a self-made organization, grown over centuries to help organize their forces better. But it is an authority perpetuated within itself, held up by the very Shadowhunters who deign to follow their laws.

Meaning, there is nothing to keep a Shadowhunter from doing their own thing, as long as they keep to the angel-given guidelines of hunting demons.

Of course, in reality it’s not quite that simple. The Clave has long ago written its own authority into law and Alec isn’t so overconfident to think that he could actually take the entire Clave, take them on or take them out. No matter how many allies or resources he might manage to gather, no matter how many of the other heirs agree with him. They have no chance in going head to head with a worldwide, centuries-old organization.

However, that is also where his position as a head of one of the old lines comes into play.

Because based on the Clave’s own laws, the old lines still retain the power to assign independent bodies to take over operations in certain areas. It’s a power solely intended to let the old lines open new Institutes whenever increased demon activity in areas make it necessary, but it is not actually stated as such in the law itself and there is certainly nothing in there saying those new bodies actually have to be under the Clave's purview.

It’s a loophole in Clave law. A loophole he fully intends to exploit.

All Alec needs are five old lines voting with him on opening those new Institutes and making them fully independent from the Clave. And he got those votes. Thrice over.

It will be their starting point, independent from but confirmed by the Clave. They have already rewritten the law as they would apply it in the future, and have even already settled on three different locations around the world – New York, London, and Tokyo – where they would want to start their own thing, once they finally decide to move on the issue.

However.

They aren’t naïve enough to think that the Clave would just let them get away with a coup like that, confirmation from the old lines or not, irreverent of their own laws allowing them to do just that. The Clave has long-since proven not to really care about following their own laws when it comes to protecting their power.

Not unless Alec can make them.

And for that he needs leverage. Leverage to _make_ the Clave leave them alone. Leverage that would make Alec and those with him instantly into an actual force to be reckoned with.

Leverage like the Mortal Cup.

The Mortal Cup that his parents stole from Valentine after he had stolen it from the Clave. The Mortal Cup which would make the ultimate bargaining chip. The Mortal Cup which no one seems to be able to find, not having been seen ever since the day Alec’s parents coincidentally decided to switch sides, only to find themselves denied by the Clave.

Not that Alec actually knows specifically where that box – and therefore the Cup – is these days. But he and Izzy have a better idea as to its whereabouts than most.

See, the thing is, back when they had been brought back to Alicante after so recently finding themselves orphaned, it hadn’t only been Shadowhunters from the Clave asking whether their parents might have been carrying ‘something’ with them, but also some of those who Alec knew were in the Circle. Meaning that Valentine himself apparently doesn’t know where the Cup is at either.

And it fills Alec with a certain amount of dark satisfaction to know that those Circle members who had found them crouching next to their mom’s body that day, apparently never made it out of that alley to bring the Cup to Valentine or even to report back their findings.

However, with those Circle members removed from the equation, it really only leaves one person who could have taken the box.

The warlock who had appeared in that alley and saved Alec and Izzy from being taken to Valentine that day.

The thing is just, even if the warlock truly took the Cup that day, he never told anyone else, kept it entirely under wraps. Because the Clave and the Circle are still searching for the Cup, no closer to finding it than they were fifteen years ago. And Alec hopes it means that the warlock is just as disillusioned with the Clave as Alec is, what with not having handed one of their most powerful artifacts back to them, not to even mention that him not having made use of it more than proves that the warlock isn’t moved by the power the Cup itself holds either.

So, Alec hopes he’ll find him amenable to his plans of indirectly usurping the Clave in the warlock’s own city.

Because Alec has had that warlock’s name burned into his mind ever since that day, hasn’t been able to forget how that one Circle member had spat it out like a curse, like it _meant_ something. He looked him up a long time ago, found that there is only one warlock called Bane in New York, namely the High Warlock himself. But so far, Alec hasn’t approached him, not wanting to stir the pot quite yet, and definitely not wanting to risk giving anyone else that final puzzle piece ahead of time and let them put things together on their own.

Instead, he waited.

But now, with all of the other pieces for their coup in position, the only thing that remains to ensure their success is the Cup.

It’s not like Alec actually needs to physically have the Cup as such, would actually be hard-pressed to protect it against the instant retaliation he’ll be facing once he claims to know where it is. No, he just needs to be able to use it as leverage.

And for that, he needs Magnus Bane’s agreement.

Which isn’t even mentioning how much easier it will be to build his own Institute in New York, if he also coincidentally manages to get the city’s High Warlock on his side right from the get-go.

So.

With everything finally in place, everything prepared for them to put their plans into action, and Alec having been assigned a mission in New York for tomorrow anyway… Well, he might as well use that chance to seek out a certain warlock in Brooklyn while he’s there.

Alec has been meaning to thank the man for saving him and his sister that day fifteen years ago anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Yet again, I don’t really know what to call this. I mostly just wanted to write Alec not being loyal to the Clave for once but rather hating everything the Clave stands for. And with him being who he is, instead of just complaining about it (like certain people in canon who shall remain unnamed XD) he promptly goes about starting a worldwide revolution, determined to make things better. Also, I know I messed around a bit with the ages and the timeline, but I need it to make things fit, so I’m just claiming creative license for all of that.
> 
> Though, this is more of a concept than an actual plot bunny, so no idea whether I’ll be adding to this ‘verse. If I do I'll likely turn it into a separate fic, which will probably turn into yet another 100k monster, if only due to all the worldbuilding I’ll be able to do with this XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	26. Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a legend amongst Shadowhunters. A legend that says Raziel granted _more_ than just the gift of runes to the very first nephilim. (Post-canon, pre-epilogue snippet where wings are suddenly a thing. Well, at least they are for Alec.)

There is a legend amongst Shadowhunters.

A legend that says that the first nephilim - the ones originally blessed by Raziel, the ones called upon by the angel himself to defend their world against demons - were granted more than just one gift, more than the ability to use runes. A legend that speaks of nephilim fighting demons wherever they dared to trespass into their realm, whether that be on land or in the air.

A legend that says Shadowhunters used to have wings.

Most of those stories are based around the depictions in ancient tomes and paintings of Jonathan Shadowhunter with pure white wings stretching out behind him, wings and runes outlined with the golden glow of angelic energy pulsing through both. Marks so very distinct, almost like a direct counterpoint to a warlock’s mark, proclaiming him more than ordinary mundanes, setting him apart.

However, as much as their children’s stories like to make use of those images, turning the first nephilim into shining figures for their children to aspire to, everyone also knows those depictions were clearly just a way to highlight Jonathan Shadowhunter’s standing back then, the one to have had direct contact with the angel himself, to ask and personally receive Raziel’s blessing.

Sure, there are books and theories and entire treatises speculating whether those legends of old might possibly hold a kernel of truth, whether the original Shadowhunters might have truly been blessed with more than just the ability to tap into angelic energy by way of runes, whether Shadowhunters these days might simply have lost those additional gifts, possibly due to the dilution of their blood after so many generations separating them from those first nephilim. Well, the few theories arguing that the loss of those additional gifts might be a sign of Raziel’s disapproval – that he might not be entirely happy with the Clave’s decision to stray off the path laid out before them by the angel himself, disapproval of them changing their doctrine to no longer stop at hunting demons but to include anyone of demon blood as well – are of course quite unpopular in Idris. Rather unsurprisingly so.

Either way, even those amongst Shadowhunters who assume there might have been additional gifts granted to nephilim originally, still agree it certainly wasn’t actual _wings_, that those mentions in the old scriptures of nephilim in-flight are clearly metaphors for something else, that those stories about Shadowhunters fighting demon swarms in the air, protecting mundanes from above, are just that. Stories.

_Obviously_.

+++

The first time it happens, Magnus and Alec are in bed.

It’s the morning after their wedding, barely twelve hours after they promised each other forever.

In hindsight, it even seems rather fitting, seeing as the first time Alec got to see Magnus’ warlock mark had been in bed as well, when they were about to take the next step, when their relationship shifted so very significantly during their first time together. So, yes, it seems rather fitting that the first time the same thing happens to Alec would be the morning after their wedding, when their relationship had once more shifted so very recently, yet another step closer, further, the two of them together.

Then again, it’s also different as it definitely has nothing to do with him losing control in any way. To the contrary.

The first time Alec’s wings manifest - not only without his say-so but also before he even knows they are a thing _at all_ \- is while he is asleep, utterly and completely content, happy, relaxed, everything in his life absolutely perfect, every single one of his lifelong dreams having come true and his vision of the future filled with potential for how to make things even _better_…

Magnus is actually the one who notices them first.

Not that they are hard to miss. At all.

+++

Magnus comes awake slowly, feels himself drifting languidly towards awareness, still mostly drifting in that warm, fuzzy place between wakefulness and sleep, just awake enough to take stock of his surroundings.

He is lying on his chest, warm and comfortable, Alexander pressed along his side, spread out partially over his back, one arm wrapped around him, the other below their shared pillow, face mostly tucked against the back of Magnus’ neck, soft breaths ruffling his hair.

There is barely another instance before he can feel his lips tilting into a helpless, utterly unguarded smile, the very moment the memories of yesterday start seeping back into his barely awake mind.

Memories of their wedding, of him being _married_. To Alexander.

His smile widens into something luminous and broad, even as he keeps his eyes closed just a little longer, perfectly happy to stay in this half-awake place of hazy warmth and relaxed happiness. He doesn’t know how exactly they ended up in this particular position, but Magnus honestly quite likes it, likes this feeling of warmth and safety and being comfortably squished into the mattress by his husband’s still sleeping form.

He feels his lips tilting up once more at that thought.

_My husband. _

After all of the drama, all of the ups and down, the losses and the heartbreak and the breakups, the near-apocalyptic events and various meddling family members. After all that. Alexander is finally, irrevocably _his_.

_Magic, I am happy._

He keeps his eyes closed as he breathes in, chest so full, heart beating in a slow, even rhythm, as he presses the slightest bit further into the warmth of Alexander’s chest. Who just shifts slightly on top of him in reaction, arm around him tightening, pulling Magnus in the slightest bit closer. If that is even possible.

Everything around them seems muffled somehow, like a barrier of sorts between them and the rest of the world, like in this moment right here it’s just the two of them. Their own little bubble of happiness.

Magnus breathes out, utterly content as he lets himself relax fully into the mattress, body going entirely pliant once more, rather ridiculously content with Alexander sleep-warm and heavy stretched out on top of him.

Yeah, he so isn’t moving. He’d actually be perfectly alright with staying right here all day if he gets a choice in the matter.

It’s not like they have anywhere to be.

They might have told everyone who would listen about this grand trip around the world they were supposedly planning for their honeymoon, claimed an itinerary of thirteen countries in total they would be visiting, so many places they were planning to see. But it had simply been a ruse, both of them wanting to ensure they will be left entirely alone. By everyone.

Something they’d never get if anyone knew they weren’t actually planning on going anywhere.

Sure, the two of them had initially discussed various potential destinations for their honeymoon, but it hadn’t taken them long to realize that neither of them was particularly into the idea of going anywhere at all.

After the stress of the past few months, all either of them wants is time to spend with just each other, no travel itinerary to keep them busy required, want to make use of this little pocket in time before the real world catches up with them once more and likely throws them headfirst into yet another catastrophe to solve the very moment they ‘return’.

So.

Instead of leaving for Paris as they had claimed they were planning last night, the moment they got home yesterday, Magnus had simply locked down the loft, sealed the wards so as to not give their presence away in any way, neither of them having any intention of leaving the loft at all, not beyond maybe going out for a romantic dinner somewhere across the globe at some point.

But that’s what portals are for.

They are both more than looking forward to spending time just with each other. Their entire plan for their honeymoon consists of lazing around in bed, having incredibly hot sex, sharing lavish dinners that Magnus can easily summon from wherever they like, and cuddling on the couch. That’s pretty much it. Just some time to spend together, enjoy each other’s presence, no interruptions, just the two of them.

And by magic is Magnus looking forward to it, actually can’t wait for the first day of their honeymoon, their first day as _husbands_. His heart gives another happy thump at the thought.

He is rather determined to spoil his husband absolutely rotten during their honeymoon in every conceivable way he can come up with. And he even thinks he is off to a rather great start after last night, where - once they got back from the festivities - Magnus had whisked his newly minted husband away to the hot tub he had magicked onto the roof as a surprise.

By the end of it, Alexander had been so beautifully yielding, so breathtaking in his willingness to indulge, to entirely cede control, utterly pliant in Magnus’ hands, the mere memory still has molten heat shivering through his veins.

Yes, that hot tub is definitely staying up there for a while longer. At the very least for the duration of their honeymoon. Possibly forever.

He feels his smile widen into a salacious grin as he finally blinks his eyes open lazily, ready to greet a new day of nothing but him and Alexander spending time with each other, on each other, _together_.

Magnus pauses. Blinks. Frowns slightly in confusion. Because, _it’s still dark out?_

That’s odd. According to his internal clock it should be morning at the very least, if not moving towards noon already. He blinks some more. Then again, it’s not entirely dark, the lighting around him just muted somehow.

He frowns, eyes still slightly bleary from sleep.

Ah, there is something in front of his face, shutting out the light…

Magnus squints. Because… What he is seeing makes very little sense. If any at all.

There are _feathers_ spread out over him, barely a hand’s width or two away from his face. Not like, a pile of feathers. But as in, a blanket of them, orderly layers of them.

Magnus squints some more, lifts his head a little from the pillow to see better as his eyes finally adjust a little.

_It looks… almost like wings?_

There is a grumble above him, Alexander apparently not all that happy at Magnus daring to move even the slightest bit, face tucking fully against the back of Magnus’ neck as Alexander shifts slightly.

The feathers move with him. They brush softly against Magnus’ side where he isn’t entirely buried underneath his husband’s body.

_Soft_, he thinks dazedly, brain still not having entirely caught up with what he is seeing. _So so soft_.

He reaches out with his free hand, can’t help it, honestly mesmerized as he runs his fingers ever-so-gently along the feather blanket spread out over him. At the touch, Alexander shudders slightly atop him and Magnus can feel his eyelashes brushing against the skin of his neck as his husband starts blinking awake as well.

“Alexander?” he asks carefully.

A moment, then an arm tightening slightly around him, “Hm?” his husband hums vaguely, apparently not quite ready to leave their little warm bubble behind either.

“Not to alarm you, darling,” Magnus starts carefully, though not at all surprised when those words have the opposite effect, can feel Alexander’s body immediately tensing as he comes more alert, lashes brushing against the back of his neck rather rapidly now. He still continues, “But… since when have you had wings?”

The Shadowhunter shifts, clearly well on his way towards being fully awake but bleary confusion in his voice as he starts, “Magn-“

A pause.

And then Alexander is scrambling upright.

The wings fluidly shift with him.

“What the-,” he is asking, voice still scratchy from sleep but tone entirely alert after apparently noticing his new appendages as well.

Magnus immediately sits up with him, turns around to be able to see better. And promptly finds himself staring rather helplessly.

_Gorgeous_, he thinks a little breathlessly.

Because there are indeed wings spreading out behind Alexander. Wings of pure white, oh-so-soft feathers, wings so pristine, they almost seem to glow a little in the muted lighting of the bedroom, the soft sunlight coming through the blinds casting a soft golden shimmer over the individual feathers.

Magnus tilts his head slightly. _Or is the golden shimmer coming from the wings themselves?_

They are also _huge_, likely about as tall as Alexander himself, even if it’s rather hard to tell while they are still on the bed, sitting amongst the covers.

In front of him, Alexander shifts, his eyes still wide. There is something about the way the wings are moving with him, flaring out behind him as he sits up, before one tucks itself neatly against his back, the other stretching forward for Alexander to stare at instead of making him twist around in order to see them, but all the while avoiding any obstacles in their way, smoothly brushing aside the covers that had partially been covering them, neither knocking into the bedside table or into Magnus himself despite how close he is sitting. There is nothing awkward about it at all.

Like their movement is utterly natural, _instinctual_ to Alexander. Like they have always been a part of him.

Though, Alexander’s wide-eyed staring makes it rather clear that he himself has in fact not been aware of their presence at all.

It’s that obvious shock on the Shadowhunter’s face that also has Magnus promptly switching tracks, skipping right past any of the hundred questions currently running through his head, far more interested in reassuring Alexander than getting any answers right now.

Most importantly, his magic is telling him these wings are as much a part of Alexander as any of his other limbs, doesn’t differentiate between him and his wings at all, so Magnus at least isn’t worried about anything nefarious being at play right now.

They can figure out everything else later on, when Alexander doesn’t look like he might be about to panic any longer.

So, instead of so much as commenting on the wings that have seemingly sprouted from his husband’s back over night, he instead goes for the obvious choice of pretending like nothing is wrong at all.

“Good morning, love,” he smiles instead, lets his eyes focus entirely on Alexander’s, reaches out to rest a hand against the side of his face, before he leans in for a soft good morning kiss.

It’s not because he wants to appear dismissive but because he knows that far better than reassuring Alexander with words that everything is going to be alright, is to do so with actions. After the many actual, sometimes-near-apocalyptic crises they’ve managed to get through together already, Alexander has proven more than once that he can simply tell whenever Magnus is just pretending calm for someone else’s sake or whether he is truly unconcerned by whatever is happening.

And, as expected, there is barely a second delay before Alexander is returning the kiss, relaxing the slightest bit as he does so. Magnus lets himself linger in his space a little before he finally pulls back again to meet his husband’s still slightly widened eyes.

Magnus waits another beat. And then can’t help but add on cheerfully, teasingly, as he glances once more at the wings stretching above his husband’s shoulder, “Never a dull moment with you, darling,” eyes crinkling in the corners with his smile.

Alexander just watches him right back, raising his eyebrows in fond exasperation at his utter nonchalance, but the worst of his tension already bleeding out of his shoulders once more, his eyes full of that adoring warmth that still makes Magnus’ breath catch every time he sees it.

_By magic, I am so very much in love with this man. _

Alec can feel some of his shock abating, the adrenaline that had spiked through him just moments ago already lessening. He is fully aware that it’s in direct reaction to Magnus’ obvious calm, the reassurance of it almost instinctively calming to him at this point.

If Magnus is calm, then he knows he doesn’t have to truly worry. At least not about himself. Magnus is never entirely calm if there is even the slightest danger to Alec anywhere to be seen.

Although… _Wings? Seriously?_

Then again, after everything they’ve been through recently, a couple of new appendages - no matter how strange or sudden - doesn’t even rank within the top ten most shocking things to happen to them just this past week alone, let alone the past few months. Case in point, _just this week_ they fought off a demon invasion threatening the world order, got rid of two Greater Demons between the two of them, and destroyed an entire realm of hell while they were at it. So, Alec suddenly sprouting wings seems almost negligible in comparison.

He honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or simply sigh in exasperation at the utter ridiculousness that is his life these days.

On the other hand, said ridiculousness also includes him having gotten married against all possible odds to the love of his life just yesterday.

Alec can’t help the smile he feels forming on his face at that thought, meets Magnus’ eyes, leans in for another kiss. He simply can’t help it. This newest bit of insanity aside, there is utter happiness pulsing through him at the reminder that they actually got _married_ yesterday, that Magnus is his husband, that he is _Alec’s_.

“Morning,” he finally returns, spoken softly against Magnus’ lips, heart full to bursting at seeing his own happiness perfectly mirrored in his husband’s eyes.

_Husband. _

His lips tilt up even further as he leans in for another soft kiss.

Yeah, his newly sprouted limbs absolutely take a backseat to this. They can always worry about that later on. Once they actually deign to get up.

Instead, Alec just lets himself tilt slightly forwards, rests his forehead against Magnus’ shoulder, basking in this moment, their first morning as husbands, instead of bothering to figure out whether he should be feeling exasperated or possibly intrigued or simply resigned at yet _something else _happening to them.

He can feel the smile on Magnus’ lips as he presses a gentle kiss against Alec’s temple, his hand coming up to softly run through his hair at the back of his head.

“They are gorgeous, darling,” Magnus then breathes against his skin.

Alec just feels himself relax a little further at that bit of additional reassurance, lets himself lean more heavily into the warlock as he tilts his head slightly to press a gentle kiss just below Magnus’ collarbone, right on top of the mark his teeth had left there in the hot tub last night, lips quirking up as he feels Magnus shiver in reaction to the renewed sensation.

Then, Magnus shifts, lets himself fall backwards onto the mattress behind him, softly tugging Alec to lie down with him. He goes easily, happy to once more spread out mostly on top of his husband, this time chest to chest, his wings fluidly flaring out behind him.

Sure, it’s admittedly a little weird. But mostly because the wings don’t actually feel weird at all. To the contrary. Somehow, they don’t feel new or different or in any way notable, really. But rather they feel like they have always been there, just like his arms, something he knows is there but doesn’t have to actually think about, their movement fluid and instinctual without him having to consciously make them obey, instead moving with him exactly how he wants them to. Like they have always been a part of him.

Maybe that’s the reason why he is staying so utterly calm right now. Because nothing about this actually feels all that different.

“May I…?” Magnus is asking, one of his hands lifted slightly in Alec’s line of sight, hovering close to one of the wings currently spread out over both of them yet, but his eyes on Alec’s face, clearly wanting to touch, but not actually reaching out before he has made sure that he is actually okay with it.

He just nods easily, casually. _Like there is ever any chance of me **not** being okay with Magnus touching me._

Though, at the first touch of Magnus’ fingers, softly brushing along the outside of his wing, Alec thinks he might have to revise that statement a little. Because, just ‘being okay’ with Magnus touching his wings so absolutely doesn’t cover it.

Even that gentle touch has Alec shivering slightly. Turns out, the wings are _sensitive_. Rather ridiculously so.

Another pass of Magnus’ fingers, a little firmer this time, and Alec almost gasps at the feeling, a full-body shiver running through him. And going by the definite smile he can see spreading over the warlock’s face as he watches Alec, eyes intent on his expression as he continues to softly run his fingers over the wing, he seems rather delighted at this particular discovery.

Then again, Alec is just fine with that.

Magnus has always taken perfect care with even the softest, the most vulnerable parts of Alec, guarding them with a sort of unapologetic ferocity that would sooner have him rip anything trying to get close to pieces than risk letting anyone do any actual harm to him. Alec is sure these new wings of his will be no different. To the contrary. His wings are actually in the best hands possible right now.

So, he lets himself sink even more pliantly onto Magnus’ chest, head on his husband’s chest, their legs intertwined, his wings spread out on either side of them, quivering slightly with Alec’s next shiver as Magnus drags his fingers ever-so-slightly-deeper but still so very gently through the topmost layer of feathers.

And so what if he can maybe see how his new wings appear to be coming aglow with a soft golden light around their edges the more Alec himself relaxes.

For now, he just ignores the implications of it all, wanting nothing beyond just another few minutes of cuddling with his husband in bed.

Everything else can just wait a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluffy ridiculousness :) And I cut it off at this point because was determined to write a simple, complication-free, tiny little ficlet of pure fluff for once... which (considering the worldbuildy bit at the beginning as well as the actual size of this) I already kind of failed at XD 
> 
> However, the next part then not only went into extensive detail on the worldbuilding, but also promptly devolved into some rather explicit smut, because I just couldn’t help myself :3 Thus, if I do add the rest of this later on, I’ll make it a separate two-shot in the series, since I don’t want to change the current rating of the collection.
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	27. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU of 1x07 where Alec doesn’t run away that morning he fell asleep at Magnus’ place after healing Luke and instead stays for breakfast. Still, Alec couldn’t tell you how ‘dinner at my place’ just becomes a thing between them in the days afterwards.

“It’s rare to find a Shadowhunter with such an open heart,” Magnus says where he is still standing next to the couch Alec just jumped up from as though it had burned him.

You know, the couch Alec just woke up on after unintentionally spending the night, somehow having managed to fall asleep at Magnus’ place.

He knows Magnus is referring to his earlier statement about Alec having shared his strength with Magnus to help him heal Luke. But it’s still something so… _different_, something he has never been called before, it makes him pause for just a moment.

Alec glances back at the warlock, from where he had already been making his way to the front door, can’t help it. Because sharing energy _is_ something rather significant, something rather intimate for all Shadowworld races, something that is usually reserved for family and closest friends and very rarely done cross-race. Because it means giving up some of your own strength for someone else to use without any control over what they might use it _for_. And that is just not the sort of thing one does lightly.

“I trust you,” he finds himself returning before he really thinks about it. “I don’t know why. But I do.”

And, alright. That came out far more honest than he had intended.

He’ll blame it on just having woken up and his brain not being entirely awake yet, not to even mention that he might also still be feeling slightly flustered from having woken up in Magnus’ apartment at all, the memories of last night, of talking and drinking and sitting close and _flirting_ for hours on end…

“What time is it?” he asks brusquely in an effort to move his mind away from that particular line of thought, before adding determinedly, “I have to get back to the Institute.”

The latter is as much a reminder to himself as it is to Magnus. A reminder that Alec doesn’t belong here, that he isn’t even supposed to be here, and that he most certainly wasn’t supposed to spend the night. As much as he hadn’t been able to make himself leave last night, not really putting up much – if any – resistance to Magnus’ repeated suggestion of ‘just one more drink before you go?’, apparently right until he had simply fallen asleep.

It’s just so damn _easy_ to let himself be distracted by Magnus’ presence, from the moment they met, last night and even now, to let his attention shift and focus exclusively, entirely, absolutely on nothing but Magnus in front of him. It’s dangerous.

“Stay for breakfast,” Magnus offers rather abruptly instead of answering Alec’s question about the time. Although, there is something in his tone that tells Alec the warlock doesn’t actually expect him to take the offer.

Which, well, isn’t inaccurate in the least. But for some reason the assumption that he will refuse, still somehow bugs Alec. Which - yes, he is fully aware - makes no sense whatsoever.

Emotions are hard.

His confusion and slight irritation and still somewhat flustered state at the entire situation is still enough for Alec to refuse the offer with a rather snappy, “No.”

A clear refusal, just to make sure Magnus knows how very much Alec doesn’t want to – _can’t, won’t, couldn’t even if he wanted to_ – stay any longer anyway. Because he already spent far too much time here and, by the Angel, he really hopes no one at the Institute noticed that he didn’t actually come home last night, never mind the uproar it would cause if anyone at the Institute realizes that Alec spent the night at Magnus’ place, at the home of the High Warlock. If only because word would instantly get back to his parents and Alec so absolutely doesn’t want to deal with that bit of drama right now.

He turns rather sharply back towards Magnus, narrows his eyes, “If you let anyone know that I slept here last night…”

He almost wants to cringe at the way his demand comes out, almost sounding like a threat even if Alec has no idea what that threat is supposed to be exactly while talking to a ridiculously powerful warlock in his own home.

Also… Well, it’s also not quite the tone he had been aiming for. After an entire evening of drinking and relaxing and talking, just the two of them together and Alec feeling more like himself than he has in a long long time, accusing Magnus, much less threatening him, really isn’t the note he had wanted for them to part on. Alec might rather desperately want to avoid feeding the Shadowhunter rumor mill in any way – or, Raziel forbid, for his parents to find out – but last night _had_ also been fun.

Angel, between his duties and his parents’ demands and his siblings happily making a mess of everything, Alec’s head is such a mess right now.

“Relax,” Magnus is replying before Alec can say anything to lessen the harshness of his previous statement, his posture casual, hands raised in supplication, something amused but also strangely resigned glinting in his eyes. “My reputation is on the line just as much as yours. I’d lose all my credibility if my people found out that I let a _Shadowhunter_ spend the night.”

Alec feels himself frown slightly at that.

Not so much at what Magnus just said – because that does admittedly make sense – but rather at _how_ he said it.

More specifically, the emphasis on the word Shadowhunter, the inflection to the word itself… It’s familiar, an inflection Alec is more than used to hearing, but usually it’s while his own people talk about _Downworlders_. The same tone, the same inflection, full of inherent distrust and dislike and less-than-we-are sentiment. Just suddenly turned on his own kind.

The dichotomy rattles him.

It’s a not-quite-welcome reminder that this is very much a two-way street, that the distrust between Shadowhunters and Downworlders most certainly goes both ways, and that for all of the teachings from the Clave and his parents about Downworlders being evil – or at the very least _not good_ – so far Magnus has done nothing but help Alec and his siblings whenever they barged into his apartment, making demands.

Magnus isn’t living up to Alec’s expectations of Downworlders at all. In all the best ways. Which only serves to rattle him more.

“Then why did you let me sleep here?” he finds himself asking, this time not even bothered by how it comes out. A little defensive and maybe the slightest bit accusing but also definitely intrigued.

Intrigued, because… if having cordial contact with Shadowhunters is enough of a bad thing in the eyes of Downworlders in general that even one of their leaders’ reputation would take an actual hit as a result, then why _did_ Magnus let him stay, much less spend an entire evening with him.

There is a pause.

“Trust,” Magnus starts, a sardonic lilt to his voice as he mirrors Alec’s earlier sentiment, “Makes you do strange things.”

Alec can feel his lips tilting up slightly in reaction.

Because, yeah, he can definitely agree with that. If it is strange for a warlock to let a Shadowhunter sleep at their place, then it seems even stranger for a Shadowhunter to let themselves fall asleep on a warlock’s couch. The inherent trust of Alec letting his guard down enough in the home of someone who should be little more than a stranger at this point, for him to relax enough to not just nod off for a bit, but to sleep deeply, to truly rest for a few hours …

_Trust_, Alec thinks. _How odd_.

Because he also meant what he said earlier. He _does_ trust Magnus, despite having no clue just why that is. Trusted him enough to fall asleep here and trusts him now not to try and draw any advantage from it in the aftermath.

There is just something about Magnus…

“Must be something in the air,” the warlock adds humorously, lips curled into a slight smile and eyes still so absolutely focused on Alec.

And, still standing somewhere halfway between the living room he just woke up in and the front door to Magnus’ apartment on his way to the Institute, Alec… finds himself pausing. He doesn’t even know why, has no idea why after he just made a – for him rather uncharacteristic – fuss about no one finding out that he ever spent any time here with Magnus at all, Alec suddenly also doesn’t really want to leave.

Because…

_Trust_, he thinks again. _When is the last time I honestly trusted someone, trusted someone’s word without needing any additional reassurance, believed someone so easily. Like Magnus’ word given, is a promise kept. _

Alec can’t quite recall whether he ever trusted someone like that before.

Sure, he’d trust his siblings with his life, to always have his back, to never truly betray him. But… This is different somehow, a different sort of trust. Not only because Alec has no actual _reason_ to trust Magnus, just as the warlock has no reason to trust him either.

Yet, for some reason, they both still do.

Maybe this easy sort of trust between them has something to do with how Alec just let himself open up yesterday, how he dropped his defenses and his so well-practiced image of immovable, straight-faced, forever-neutral leader around Magnus, as he tried quite a number of drinks Magnus prepared for him last night, even if he didn’t actually finish most of them, the glasses whisked away as soon as the warlock realized Alec didn’t much enjoy whatever drink he just served, only to promptly present him with another.

It doesn’t entirely explain this… _connection_ – strange and somewhat puzzling but definitely there –between them.

But Alec thinks those few hours definitely have something to do with it, an evening of conversation and being honest in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever been with anyone before or even wanted to be, being more himself than he’s been around anyone in years. Because that’s all Magnus wanted from him, for Alec to be entirely himself.

Alec let his guard down last night, something he hasn’t done since he started his Shadowhunter training, well before he ever reached his teens.

And Magnus had done nothing whatsoever to make him regret it. To the contrary. After those initial more refined flirting attempts, Magnus had responded to Alec’s openness by simply dropping his coyly-cryptic act, dropped his own masks and the artful flirting that had gone so utterly over Alec’s head. Oh, Magnus had still flirted – Angel, did he ever – but for the rest of the night, Magnus had simply been utterly straightforward about it, warm eyes and soft smiles and genuine compliments and honest laughter.

So, Alec had responded in kind, had let himself relax further, had let himself blush at Magnus’ compliments, had even let himself flirt _back._ And Magnus – the several-centuries-old, vastly powerful warlock who for some reason seems to be interested in _Alec_ of all people – had seemed honestly charmed by it all.

It had been nice, getting to be entirely himself for a while.

And, standing here in the entrance hall of Magnus’ apartment, Alec finds he doesn’t really want to leave. Not now. Not quite yet.

_Just another few minutes of this_, he thinks. Just a few more minutes of getting to be himself before he has to leave, has to raise his guard again, to re-erect his defenses, to turn himself into the embodiment of the perfect soldier again.

He already spent the evening _and_ the night. What harm could another half-hour of breakfast possibly do at this point.

Decision made, Alec turns back around to fully face Magnus again.

“You said-,” he starts, then breaks off again, because he already refused Magnus’ suggestion of having breakfast together out of hand and doesn’t quite know how to ask whether the offer is still open. Then again, he has never been anything but straightforward. “Breakfast?” he finally asks, glad to hear that his voice comes out calm despite his slight nerves.

There is a moment of pause.

Delaying his return to the Institute and whatever may await him there for another half-an-hour, is definitely worth the smile – open and bright and genuine – that spreads over Magnus’ face in reply, making his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, his gaze warm and focused entirely on Alec throughout.

_Yeah, definitely worth it._

+++

Alec clenches his teeth.

_So much for thinking today might actually turn out to be a decent day. _

His good mood from this morning – after an excellent breakfast with even better company – has already entirely evaporated barely an hour later. Thanks to Jace and his red-haired, pouting, doe-eyed barnacle.

They are currently standing in front of the local police station, Izzy beside him, Clary and Jace across, the four of them trying to come up with a plan for how to get inside.

_Inside_, where the Mortal Cup apparently is just lying around for anyone to grab.

And while Alec agrees that they definitely need to get the Cup before Valentine’s people do, he’d really wish Jace and Clary would stop to listen to Alec’s plans instead of insisting on their stupidly gung-ho approach to everything.

Alas, he has been outvoted. Again.

Because for some reason that Alec can’t quite discern, the little girl who has been following his parabatai around like a little lost duckling apparently gets a vote on mission parameters at all. Never mind that they have been trained for years while she knows quite literally nothing at all about their world. While Jace seems happy to agree with anything the girl says, and Izzy declared she’d ‘stay neutral’, which might as well be an agreement with the other two as much as she is claiming it isn’t.

Point is, Alec gave up trying to collectively beat some sense into their heads when he realized that he isn’t going to win and that arguing with them right now is only going to delay everything further and getting the Mortal Cup at all really is the most important thing for now.

Not that Jace and his little hanger-on seem to have an actual plan yet beyond nixing anything Alec suggests.

“Can’t we ask Magnus to portal us inside?” Clary is asking.

“No,” Alec replies promptly, voice firm, already so annoyed by this girl and the way she keeps asking for the easy way out of everything certainly isn’t helping.

And, well, Magnus also told him about his plans for today over breakfast, so Alec knows he isn’t actually in the city right now.

“Yeah, that would be awkward,” Izzy hums in agreement. Before gasping and quickly glancing up at him, an obvious apology in her eyes.

Alec just blinks back at her.

Why would asking Magnus for help be ‘awkward’? It’s what they’ve been doing ever since they first met the warlock. No one seemed to find it awkward yesterday to simply show up at the loft with an injured werewolf in tow. Why would doing the exact same thing suddenly be awkward now?

He feels like he might be missing something here.

“Awkward?” Jace asks with a frown, glancing between Izzy and Alec.

Alec just shrugs at his parabatai, having no idea either, which in turn seems to have Izzy frowning in slight confusion as well. Like she expected a different reaction from him.

“Magnus isn’t in the city right now,” Alec finally supplies, to clear up why asking Magnus to fix all their problems actually isn’t an option.

A pause.

“How do you know that?” Jace asks slowly, suspicious frown deepening.

_Great priorities there, Jace, _he thinks sardonically.

Alec just raises an eyebrow at his parabatai and deadpans, “Because he told me.” He does absolutely nothing to lessen the rather obvious ‘duh’ implied in his tone.

Jace blinks at him, suspicion and confusion warring in his expression, joined by Izzy intrigued stare as Alec’s reaction to their probing apparently doesn’t match whatever she had been expecting.

Alec stares back at them, face utterly blank, eyes steely. A clear warning. _Daring_ the two of them to question him right now, _dares_ them to veer so far off mission protocol that they’d actually ask about his personal life while on a mission, as unofficial as this entire situation may be.

They aren’t kids on an adventure. They are _soldiers_.

Alec may have been making allowances for them these past couple of days, but there are definite limits to what he is willing to permit, to let slide, especially when it’s not just the three of them hanging out at the Institute or sparring or arguing mission parameters ahead of time in the ops center, but rather when they are outside in the middle of a mission, and the two of them are apparently _this close_ to forgetting just how far Alec outranks them in the field.

They are already more than pushing it with how they demand this entire situation be handled. But. He’ll put them through absolute _hell_ in training for the next month or so, might honestly entirely suspend them from missions for a while, possibly even send them to Idris for someone else to beat some sense into their heads again, if they dare cross this line, if they _so much as attempt_ _gossiping_ while the safety of the Mortal Cup is at stake.

In the end, they thankfully seem to have enough sense not to ask the questions about Alec’s personal life that are rather clearly on their mind. At least not right now. Which is fine, they can absolutely try badgering him for information once this entire situation is over with and they aren’t in the field anymore.

“Magnus left?” Clary is exclaiming, apparently having entirely missed the byplay between the three of them. “But we need him! Where did he go?”

Alec is honestly tempted to roll his eyes.

_Yeah, how **dare** Magnus go about his own life while one Clary Fray may have need of his services_, he thinks sarcastically_. Honestly, this girl’s self-centredness knows no bounds._

He truly doesn’t get what Jace sees in her.

_Well, Magnus did make the time to have breakfast with me despite being rather busy today_, Alec thinks, even if he lets none of his inward preening at that thought show on his face.

The fact that he had kind of lost track of time this morning while talking to Magnus over waffles and coffee, and that the planned thirty minutes for breakfast had turned into almost one-and-a-half hours instead, is really no one’s business but his own.

Same for the fact that Magnus also told him that he’d be back in New York by tonight and that Alec should really give him a call if he is free later on.

Yeah, no way is Alec mentioning either of these things to his siblings or to little Miss Wreck-The-World over there.

The lot of them can figure out their own timeslots for getting in contact with Magnus and asking the warlock to fix all their problems without dragging Alec into it as well.

No, the next time Alec calls Magnus, it will be for the reasons _he_ wants, and not because his siblings are too lazy to officially commission a warlock’s services and can’t be bothered to argue the necessity of said commission in front of the Clave.

Maybe it will even teach them to start handling their own problems. Maybe they’ll even finally realize that Alec ‘handling the paperwork real quick’ is far more time-consuming than they honestly seem to assume. Maybe making it a little harder for them to always just get their way might even spare Alec a couple of catastrophes to solve - courtesy of his siblings - along the way.

Well, one can hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the entire idea behind this is Alec simply being a little more possessive of his time with Magnus. Because as nice as Alec's willingness to share in canon was, the idea of him jealously guarding his time with Magnus and in the process of doing so maybe also kind of forgetting to be jealous over Jace instead (possibly to Jace's own confusion/irritation/bafflement) is rather amusing to me.
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your comments and kudos <3


	28. Promise (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a raid, Alec promises a dying mundane he’ll take care of her child. Which is how he finds himself father to a little blue-skinned warlock baby in a world that has never been kind to Downworlders in general or to warlocks in particular. So, Alec will just have to change that. Even if he might need a little help along the way.
> 
> (Pre-canon AU based on the rather random thought of, 'what if Alec had found out about Iris Rouse before canon, organized a raid, and came away with more than he ever expected'.)

“Promise me,” the woman gasps, hands wrapped around one of Alec’s, nails biting into his skin, her grip already weakening, her strength dwindling, blood pooling around them. “Promise me you won’t let _her_ have my baby.” Her hands tighten. “Promise me you’ll protect my son.”

Alec feels his teeth clench at her obvious desperation, fear and terror and pure helplessness in every line of her body. He can tell she is utterly terrified even of Alec himself, scared of this world full of monsters she didn’t know existed until she was kidnapped by a warlock deeming her suitable to be used as a broodmare for warlock children. And yet, the woman is still trying to ensure her child’s safety to the best of her abilities.

Alec looks down at the little wrapped bundle tucked into the crook of his free arm, the tiny face scrunched up as the boy’s wailing cries pierce their surroundings, loudly protesting his rather abrupt arrival in this world mere minutes ago.

The woman lying prone in front of him clearly can’t quite make herself look at her own child, something like revulsion, a repulsed sort of disgust in the way her fingers jerk away whenever the child so much as twitches in Alec’s hold.

He honestly can’t even entirely blame her. Not when she is _still_ trying to ensure her child’s safety, not while considering how she conceived her child, what has been done to her while held captive in Iris Rouse’s house.

If anything, Alec can admire her determination to make sure her child will be protected in spite of it all, in this world of apparent horrors latching on to the lesser of two evils, to the one who had come storming through the door right when she had been in the middle of giving birth, the one who had driven Rouse away.

Meaning, Alec.

Alec who had led the charge into Iris Rouse’s house, a raid organized in the dead of night.

They’d only known that something was going on in this house at all because Jace had personally witnessed Rouse kidnap a mundane woman right off the street just yesterday. It had been pure coincidence, Alec and Jace just having finished off a couple of demon critters in an alley and Jace had been a couple of steps ahead of Alec in stepping back onto the main street. Only to witness Rouse dragging a woman through a portal barely a few feet away from him.

Everything has been a whirlwind ever since.

Figuring out Rouse’s identity had been the easy part, the Clave’s database thankfully including not only her name but also her address. Trying to contact their city’s High Warlock, however, to get themselves some answers and as is required by the accords had led them nowhere, if only because they knew neither said High Warlock’s name nor his address.

The result of the warlocks having gone to ground years ago due to Valentine making a mess of everyone’s lives.

But knowing that there was at least one mundane life at risk - the woman Jace had seen being kidnapped - and not knowing what might be happening to her or how long they had to come to her rescue, Alec had gotten himself emergency authorization for a raid on Rouse’s house from the Clave, deciding that, if need be, he’ll just have to deal with the fallout of that decision later on.

However, even knowing that Rouse is apparently in the business of kidnapping mundanes off the street to do angel knows what, they still in no way expected to find what they did once they pushed past her wards, hadn’t expected to barge into Rouse’s house to find a little warlock girl and two mundane women cowering in corners, staring back at them wide-eyed, one of them apparently in the middle of giving birth, the other being the woman Jace had witnessed being taken by Rouse just yesterday.

Everything about what they found here, the implications of what they were seeing, was so abhorrent, the mere idea of it in its nature so very repelling, that - even despite the rather clear evidence in front of them - it had still taken Alec and the Shadowhunters with him a little longer than it maybe should have to realize the full horror of what has apparently been going on in this house.

When finding herself cornered by a full raid team of Shadowhunters in her house, Iris Rouse had promptly fled, taking the little warlock girl with her. But not before slashing clean across the heavily pregnant stomach of the woman currently in labor, quite likely in an attempt to slow down Alec and his team in their pursuit of her. The cut had been nowhere near deep enough to expose the child lying within, but deep enough to bleed heavily, further putting the mundane’s life at risk.

Alec had darted forward to catch the woman as she fell, barking at Jace to hunt down Rouse with the rest of their team, while he stayed behind to try and help this mundane, try to save this woman and her baby. Undeterred by the fact that it is ‘only’ a mundane who is ‘only’ giving birth to a warlock.

He is going to relegate Raj to night patrols for the next _decade_ just for that callous comment alone.

And Alec is still here, beside the bed where he placed the woman, knows it’s likely been less than an hour since they stormed Rouse’s house, Jace and the team still in pursuit of the warlock. Alec’s hands are literally covered in blood where he had reached for the child, a little blue-skinned, blue-haired boy, now wrapped in a pillow case for lack of anything else and wailing with all his might.

But Alec can’t focus on the child right now, the crying telling him that the boy is healthy. While the woman front of him doesn’t stand a chance at survival, doesn’t have much - if any - time left, the blood spreading over the bed she is lying on - from the wound on her stomach and the birth itself - making that rather clear.

“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” the woman gasps again, eyes desperate, losing strength with each second that passes. “Someone _has_ to-,” her voice cuts off, growing ever-weaker. “Someone… _Please_. Please, protect him.”

Alec internally curses at the fact that Iratze doesn’t work on mundanes, that he has no clue how to prevent her from bleeding out without the help of runes, that he didn’t bring any of the Institute’s healers along for this raid, not having expected anything like this at all.

“Please,” she begs again. “_Promise_ me.”

Alec feels his chest tighten at this situation he has found himself in. The woman’s desperate grip that had been so tight in the beginning, now barely there, her strength leaving her, the bundle in his arm squirming, the baby’s wails loud in the room. And no one else around.

No one aside from Alec.

He glances at the child in his arm, swallows, breathes in. Braces himself for what he is about to do. Then he lets his eyes find the woman’s, makes his expression serious, his voice firm.

“I promise,” he vows, intones it solemnly with all the weight a promise made by him carries. A promise made, being a promise kept.

He can’t do anything but give her that promise. Not with her dying in front of him and her baby crying in his arm. A mundane who should have been safe from their world, who Alec should have been able to protect, but who instead has already seen too much of the horrors that the Shadowworld has to offer, magic wielded at its worst and those who are supposed to be your saviors callously disregarding your life. He can’t refuse her, not with her eyes desperate for some reassurance that her child will not suffer as she herself likely did these past couple of months kidnapped, forced into pregnancy, held against her will.

“I promise,” he vows again, holds her gaze firmly, calmly, now that the decision has been made settled and sure once more.

At his words, her hands immediately start slackening around his, strength clearly giving out on her, having hung on beyond what she should be capable of out of pure desperation to see to her child’s safety. It is something to be admired.

And finally, for the first time since she gave birth, she lets her eyes settle on her own child even though she doesn’t reach out to touch the baby. “I wanted to name him Max,” she whispers, strength clearly gone.

Alec wants to close his eyes at the pain in her voice.

But he doesn’t, owes it to her and the child he swore to protect to witness her last moments. He watches her breathe her last breaths, long before the medic from the Institute he called for via Fire Message makes it here, long before the mundane emergency services he called via phone arrive.

By the time Jace and the others get back, the woman has passed on, hands having slipped from their hold on Alec’s arm, eyes closed, chest still, the puddle of blood around them no longer growing.

And in Alec’s arm there is a tiny, fragile warlock baby, crying, already having lost who should have been his best protection against the unkindness that awaits him in this world.

Then again, he now has Alec.

Alec who swore to protect him, take care of him, keep him safe.

And he'll be damned if that isn't exactly what he is going to do.

+++

Magnus glances around the room he has found himself in.

He is at Iris Rouse’s house. Well, her _former_ house. Considering that she will never again be setting foot within his city again. He’ll make sure of that.

He frowns darkly.

When he’d gotten back from his trip to the labyrinth and word about the Institute raiding the home of one of the warlocks under his jurisdiction first reached him, Magnus had been furious, immediately stepping through a portal, magic curling malevolently under his skin, hoping he’d get there in time to protect one of his.

Only to find that the raid had not only already been over and done with, but also that the Institute had been more than justified in tearing through Iris’ home.

_How did I miss this? _Magnus thinks, clenching his teeth as he glances around himself. _How did I miss what Iris was doing right under my nose?_

Well, if he is honest he knows why word hadn’t reached him before.

Valentine’s crusade has cost the Shadowworld whatever trust might at some point have still existed between Shadowhunters and Downworlders, mostly because the Clave isn’t really doing anything to truly separate themselves from the Circle, pretending ignorance as Downworlders are murdered, but ever-tightening the restrictions placed on them, the punishments for any real or imagined infractions against the accords growing ever more severe.

For all their ‘Valentine betrayed us as well’ rhetoric, the Clave doesn’t really seem to mind the Circle’s ongoing actions all that much, still so very convinced of their own superiority and the accords so easily ignored when Downworlders are killed by Valentine’s people, the agreement only ever being called upon whenever they want to cry foul for something a Downworlder – supposedly – did.

It’s no wonder then that Magnus’ people would have kept mum about Iris even _if_ they suspected something might be going on. No one would have said anything unless they were _sure_.

And most days, it even makes Magnus proud that his people look out for each other, that no warlock will ever accuse another of doing anything that might put them on the wrong end of the Clave’s so-very-merciless arm of supposed justice, that even if one of the other warlocks in New York ever had any suspicions about Iris Rouse, they wouldn’t have spoken up unless they were absolutely, immovably certain of their accusation. Magnus approves of that sort of loyalty amongst his people. It just sucks in cases like this, where an accusation of possible wrongdoings against Iris would have been more than justified.

Which brings him here. To the house of one of his warlocks, raided and torn apart by Shadowhunters. Who had been absolutely justified in doing just that.

He throws another glance at the bed in the middle of the room, the large pool of blood spread over the covers, the imprint of life lost and life created intermixing in the room, tendrils of newly born warlock magic still hanging in the air.

A warlock child.

A child who Magnus is absolutely determined to find, determined to find the baby a home, a family, the best start into this world he can possible manage for the child, anything to make up for the horrors of this house.

The thought makes Magnus even more anxious to get all of this settled, the thought of a newborn warlock brought into this world under circumstances already so much worse than anyone should ever have to live with.

The house itself had already been cleared out by the time Magnus got here. Well, mostly. There are still two Shadowhunters wandering around the house, likely supposed to guard the place, possibly waiting for the Institute to commission another warlock to take down any remaining security features around the house. You know, like the wards keeping Iris’ study sealed.

Well, _had_ kept them sealed. As in, past tense.

The study actually isn’t sealed any longer, not that the Shadowhunters are aware of that little fact, or even noticed Magnus’ presence here at all. As soon as he got here, Magnus promptly tore down Iris’ wards and cleaned out the entire study with no one the wiser. Iris is _old_, has been around for a while, and Magnus simply isn’t willing to let the Clave get their hands on any of the more eccentric materials she might have collected over the several centuries she’s been alive. Better safe than sorry and all that. The Clave is already making enough of a mess of their world without being aware of any of the more eccentric magics at the more powerful warlocks’ disposal. Yeah, best not risk it.

So, with that taken care of, next on the list will be hunting down Iris herself.

He knows finding her will be easy. Because Magnus is in her house, surrounded by her magic. It will be child’s play to track her by following the tendrils of her own magic. And it will be just as easy for him to take her down.

Iris might be old, one of the older warlocks around, but she has never been particularly powerful, relying on knowledge and artifacts and traded favors to make up for her lack in magical strength. But in a one-on-one confrontation with Magnus, much less as utterly furious as he is right now? Yeah, she will be rather laughably outclassed.

His teeth clench, fury still humming underneath his skin, vibrating within the coils of his magic, even as he lets it permeate the room, his magic tugging at the strands left behind by Iris’ own throughout the room, finds the trail.

A flick of his hand has a portal springing up in front of him.

It’s been a while since he was forced to hunt one of his own. He doesn’t much appreciate Iris forcing his hand in this.

Warlocks may have very few absolute taboos in their culture, but breeding their own kind is very much one of them. Taking in a mundane already pregnant with a warlock child? Sure, that sort of thing can be argued about. But actually having a demon impregnate a mundane? There is no mercy to be found amongst warlocks for those who dare cross that line.

It’s not even the first time Magnus has seen it happen – when immortals get desperate for a child, no longer deterred by morals or general human decency or anything else potentially standing in their way – but it is rather rare, if only because the harsh punishment is a rather effective deterrent against it.

Being born a warlock is already a difficult enough fate to live with in itself. Just the realization that you were most likely conceived due to your own mother being raped by a demon, the best case scenario being that your mother was ‘only’ coerced into sex, if the demon in question is so inclined. That sort of realization is already harsh enough of a burden to bear.

But something like this?

Being _bred_ a warlock, mundanes being turned into mere incubators for the children Iris desired. Magnus has to swallow down bile at the thought.

Thing is just, there are really only two options for where this newborn warlock might be right now and neither is particularly good. Because either Iris herself has the child or the Shadowhunters who raided her house do.

Magnus honestly doesn’t know which one he’d prefer.

Because who knows how a newborn warlock would be treated by the local Institute, but Iris isn’t a particularly good choice either. If only because Magnus is about to hunt her down, will bring her to the Labyrinth to await trial, fully knowing what her punishment will be.

She will be sentenced to death.

However.

A newborn warlock’s magic bonds itself to its mother, a bond of protection, an automatic defense created by nature and magic itself, a bond between mother and child.

But since the mundane who gave birth here clearly didn’t survive childbirth, the baby’s magic will have latched on to the next best thing. Meaning whoever is taking care of the child right now.

And between a warlock without morals or apparent empathy who is about to be sentenced to death and a _Shadowhunter_ of all people who likely won't want anything to do with the child in the long-term, Magnus truly doesn’t know which one he should consider the lesser evil.

He feels his teeth clench even as he finally steps through the portal to hunt down one of his own. Sometimes he really can't help but wonder why this world seems to so very rarely have any kindness to spare for his own kind.

+++

Turns out, everyone has got something to say about the child Alec brought with him to the Institute.

His parents, his sister, his parabatai, everyone at the Institute, the entire damn Clave. _Everyone_ has an opinion, every single person he comes across deigning to put in their two cents on what they think would be ‘best’, what they think he should do.

The one thing everyone seems to naturally agree on is the fact that Alec is _obviously_ going to give the baby away, no one even questioning that bit, everyone so utterly certain. Instead, they are all arguing about the best way to go about handing him over to someone else, whether to find some warlock to hand the baby to or whether to just give the child to the Clave to handle.

And those are the kinder suggestions people deign to bring up. Some of the things he hears whispered about the tiny warlock in Alec’s arm have utter fury running through merely thinking about it.

So, he remains silent as always, vigilant, listens, picks out the Shadowhunters with the less-than-genial opinions where a warlock baby is concerned. They might not be aware of it quite yet, but there are several Shadowhunters who are soon going to find themselves reassigned _elsewhere_, as far away from New York as Alec can manage, possibly to Antarctica if he can swing it.

Because, between them and the baby? Well, Alec knows which of them is _staying_, so the other quite plainly has to go.

Though, no one at the Institute seems to quite get that little fact yet. The fact that Alec promised he’d take care of the baby, to protect the child, and that he _meant_ it. He wouldn’t have given the mundane such a blanket promise if he hadn’t been determined to see it through. The moment he promised her he’d take care of her baby, the decision of what he would do was already made.

He is going to keep the child. And to hell with anyone who has something to say on the matter, much less anyone who might be stupid enough to try and _do_ anything about it.

Still, he remains silent as Izzy keeps talking about how she could call Meliorn and how the seelie surely knows someone who’d be willing to take in a warlock child. His mother took one look at the baby and promptly asserted that if he brought a baby into the Institute he’d also have to figure out what to do with it, clearly thinking she was doling out some sort of punishment for some sort of impulse decision on his part, like he brought home a pet. And his father surreptitiously slipped him the name of one of his contacts with the Clave who’ll be able to ‘take care of it’, the implications of which Alec doesn't even want to think about.

The only one who seems to have figured out that Alec has no intention of taking _any_ of those suggestions, that there is something far beyond him just deigning to briefly take care of a warlock kid because he was there for its birth, is Jace.

His parabatai who has been watching him intently, carefully, attentively ever since he stepped back into Iris Rouse’s living room after unsuccessfully trying to hunt her down, only to find Alec with a crying baby in his arms and a dead mundane at his feet. Jace who was the first to fall silent on the issue of what he should do with the baby, in the end only speaking up to offer he’d watch the baby while Alec took a shower to wash off the blood still covering him, not-so-quietly freaking out when the child started wailing the very instant Alec handed him over to Jace.

His parabatai who is also the only one Alec can even make himself hand the child to at all, can’t quite make himself let go of the child otherwise, barely having let the Institute’s healers check him over, confirming the boy’s general health, and giving Alec what he needs to care for a newborn for now.

It’s not that he honestly thinks anyone here will actually harm the child. Even those with less-than-kind opinions on warlocks in general wouldn’t go as far as purposely harming a baby. But he definitely wouldn’t put it past some of the Shadowhunters at the Institute to take it upon themselves to do what they think is best with the child if Alec so much as turns his back. Like, promptly taking the child to the Clave.

He is proven right the next morning, when a Clave envoy arrives at the Institute, apparently having been called by some well-meaning busybody deciding to take things into their own hands. Alec barely keeps from scoffing at the idea that anyone will be taking the baby anywhere. Yeah, not happening.

Not that Alec actually meets whoever was sent from Idris. Because Jace texts him before he even makes it out of his room.

‘Clave representative waiting for you in the Ops center.’ The text is phrased neutrally, but it’s absolutely meant as a warning, a heads-up. Because, despite clearly not quite knowing what to make of Alec’s determination not to hand the child over to anyone else, his parabatai is - as always - still immutably on Alec’s side, whatever that 'side' may be.

‘Thanks,’ he sends back, already gathering some of the baby’s stuff, on his way out of the Institute within minutes of receiving Jace's text, possible scenarios of how to handle this running through his head.

Either way, seems like he should make himself scarce for a bit.

At least until he himself has figured out how exactly he wants to go about all of this, how to handle having so suddenly found himself a father at twenty-two. Father to a blue-skinned little baby boy, in a world that has never been very kind to Downworlders in general or to warlocks in particular. A world where a Shadowhunter raising a warlock child is unheard of, will never be accepted by _either_ side, not the Clave _or_ the Downworld.

And even as he makes his way across the lawn stretching out around the Institute, his home, Alec just clenches his teeth in determination at that last thought.

_Well, then I’ll just have to find a way to **change** that, now won’t I._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of utter self-indulgence, because I couldn’t help imagining what canon would have been like if by the time Clary came around, everyone’s priorities had already shifted too much for anyone to be swayed by her agenda if only because they have something more important to protect. Not to even mention that the entirety of New York's Shadowworld would know that Alec would rip them utterly apart if anyone dared put his son at risk, never mind the absolute hell his stupidly powerful warlock boyfriend would put them through… :3
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	29. Promise (part 2)

Alec leans back in his seat.

He is sitting outside at a table in front of some café in a park he came across while wandering the city, determined to make himself scarce at the Institute and avoid whoever the Clave sent to take the little warlock away from him.

Yeah, that’s just not happening.

Alec glances down at the tiny bundle held in the crook of his arm.

The baby is quiet right now, making some cooing noises from time to time but apparently rather content at the moment, having just finished feeding and now working his limbs a little, utterly uncoordinated as he waves his tiny hands and feet about, eyes large and focused on Alec throughout.

Alec can’t help but let his lips tilt into a smile at the sight. Barely a day old, not even entirely past that wrinkly, squished-looking, less-than-adorable stage of newborns. And so damn fragile.

That last thought has a slight frown forming on Alec’s face, his free hand coming up to lay over the baby’s tiny stomach.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Well, he _does_ know. But at the same time he also kind of doesn’t.

His conviction to keep the baby is unchanged, utterly immutable, a simple fact in his mind. But he also knows that him deciding as much simply isn’t all there is to it. He’ll have to at least inform the resident High Warlock of the newly born warlock in his city if only to avoid being accused of kidnapping by other warlocks at some point. And he knows that he is likely going to have quite the fight on his hands with whoever that High Warlock turns out to be, considering a Shadowhunter declaring they are keeping a tiny, defenseless warlock is likely to be met with something other than… enthusiasm.

Understandably so. Not only because of the Clave’s general Downworlders-are-beneath-us rhetoric that no child should be subjected to from their caretakers, but also because Alec is a _Shadowhunter_ wanting to take care of a _warlock_. He can’t even imagine the uproar it would cause if the situation were ever reversed, if a warlock declared he was going to raise the orphaned nephilim child they found.

Yeah, that warlock would be in Idris behind bars before they were ever given the chance to plead their pure motives.

Thus, Alec is just going to assume that him declaring he is going to raise Max no matter what anyone else might have to say about it is going to elicit a similar reaction amongst Downworlders.

It even has the potential of turning into quite the powder keg, depending on how his initial declaration about keeping Max is going to go over with the High Warlock. Well, once Alec figures out how to find the guy.

Alec really wishes he knew more about the various Downworld leaders of New York or even anywhere else in the world. If only so he’d have a better idea of how to approach this entire thing, whether there is anyone he should approach first or anyone he could approach who’d be more likely to be an ally in this.

Alas, for all he knows that New York does have a High Warlock and even that’s it’s supposedly a rather powerful at that, Alec has never met the man, doesn’t even know his name or what he looks like. Even the fact that New York’s High Warlock is apparently rather powerful comes more from his own observations based on the way his parents - and any of the more powerful people from the Clave who sometimes stop by - tend to treat the New York warlock community in general. Almost, like they’d very much like to avoid ever overstepping where New York’s warlocks are concerned, something Alec knows definitely isn’t the norm in other cities.

So, Alec simply… inferred. Inferred that whoever the leader of the warlocks in this city may be, he must be powerful enough to cow even the Clave into thinking twice about pissing him off.

Because, vampires? Werewolves? His parents have no problems taking either of those species to task, even arresting them and having them brought to Idris for trial. Even seelies are sometimes brought in, likely for the sole reason that the Seelie Queen so rarely bothers to step into their realm and make her displeasure with the Clave known. But warlocks? Alec can’t even recall the last time a warlock was actually brought in to be questioned at the Institute, much less passed judgment on.

For as much as no one ever says it out loud, New York’s warlocks are pretty much left to regulate themselves, left under their own rule, not to be interfered with by the Institute.

Well, aside from the raid Alec himself organized on Iris Rouse’s house of course.

So.

Compared to that, compared to the uncertainty of what sort of fight might await him once he approaches the local warlocks about Max, the Clave itself absolutely doesn’t worry Alec. He’s got leverage there, a name, a powerful family with quite a bit of weight he can throw around.

Within the Downworld, however? Honestly, not so much.

To the contrary. He is self-aware enough to know that, while the name Lightwood might be somewhat well-known amongst Downworlders as well, that’s not necessarily a good thing. Shadowhunters who make a name for themselves amongst Downworlders rarely do so by being particularly kind.

Not to even mention the fact that even Alec can admit that the Institute is absolutely no place to raise a warlock child. Not as it is now, not after hearing some of the rather explicit sentiments that were promptly expressed when Alec showed up with a warlock baby yesterday.

Which, however, only means that Alec will have to fix it.

Because the fact that he _will_ keep Max, will raise him and protect him and do everything in his power to keep him safe and happy, will change the status quo if need be, will change this entire world they live in if that’s what it takes. None of that is even a question in his mind, hasn’t been since he promised as much to Max’s mother.

The moment he gave his word, the decision of what he would do had already been made.

Looking down at the child now, so tiny and fragile and eyes moving around their surroundings but clearly not actually able to really focus on anything yet, entirely helpless in a world that has never been kind to his race, where warlocks are hunted by Alec’s own people no less… The mere thought makes something in his chest tighten.

He simply can’t give the child to anyone else.

He _can’t_.

Max gurgles up at him, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a squeak, then a yawn, one tiny hand curled halfway around one of Alec’s fingers, a much slower blink, apparently about ready to fall asleep after just having fed. Another blink. And then, his eyes just staying closed.

Alec truly can’t make himself look away.

There is something so incredibly soothing and so heartrendingly warm about this, about the easy and absolute trust, so freely given, the baby so utterly defenseless and at the same time so obviously perfectly content right where he is, lying in the crook of his arm. Alec honestly doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

He breathes through that warm, perfect ache in his chest, even as he lets his head fall back to stare up at the sky, his free hand still settled on Max’s small stomach, breathes out, mind whirling with the enormous _shift_ he knows his life is about to make, _has_ already made, the fights he knows will be in his future.

Endless arguments with pretty much everyone in his life and countless people on top of that, fights with the very institution he has build his entire life around until now. And who knows what awaits him from the other side of the aisle, the Downworld side.

With no one beside him to help Alec fight for his son’s right to live the happy, free, sheltered life any child deserves.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice suddenly asks from somewhere to his left.

Alec immediately tilts his head back down, coming fully alert, not even having noticed someone approaching him at all. Which is already no small feat on its own, considering Alec’s constant, very much unwavering awareness of his surroundings.

He glances over. And then has to blink once, twice, at the image of the really rather stunning man standing beside his table, the barest smile play around his lips, expression open but eyes intent and watchful.

A man who is also pinging his senses.

_Warlock_, his instincts whisper.

_Well, that was quick_, is his next thought_._

He had in no way expected to find himself approached so soon, despite having known that a Shadowhunter wandering around town with a warlock baby was bound to draw someone’s notice at some point. But it’s barely been three hours since he left the Institute in his quest to avoid the Clave representative Jace had warned him about. And, admittedly, Alec had also kind of assumed he’d have to be the one to approach the warlock community about Max and not the other way around.

Still, he makes himself nod, eyes on the warlock even as he gestures to the other chair at his table diagonally across from him. He watches as the man smoothly takes a seat, all fluid grace and elegant movements as he settles, eyes on Alec, his gaze assessing.

But, for some reason, Alec isn’t feeling particularly on alert.

As surprised as he might be by this development, there is simply nothing explicitly aggressive or challenging or even particularly cautious about the way this warlock is watching him, eyes drifting to where little Max is sleeping, having fallen asleep just a few minutes ago.

It makes Alec wonder just how long this warlock might have already been observing him with the warlock baby, whether he waited for Max to fall asleep before he finally decided to approach, whether he used the time to get a general feel of Alec himself for the warlock to be so calm now.

There is a second of silence between them.

“You’re a warlock,” Alec then says calmly. Not the most creative beginning for a conversation but, well, they have to start somewhere and he thinks it’s best to just get that bit out into the open.

“The High Warlock of our wonderful city, to be exact,” the man nods easily, eyes once more finding the baby sleeping in Alec’s arm, before he looks up to meet Alec’s eyes once more. “I’m Magnus,” he introduces himself.

_The High Warlock. Huh. _

Well, that at least means Alec won’t have to figure out a way to get in contact with New York’s High Warlock himself in order to inform him about Alec’s son. Seems like the cat is already very much out of the bag. Somehow.

“Alec,” he returns easily. “Alec Lightwood.”

There is another pause. Before Alec can’t help but ask, “How did you find me?”

Because there is simply no way that this is a coincidence. Magnus is here because of Max, sought him out because of the warlock baby in Alec’s arm. That part is obvious. The only thing left to determine is what exactly the warlock is planning to do about it.

“Ah,” Magnus hums, looking perfectly relaxed as he leans back in his seat. “I heard of a raid on the home of one of the warlocks living in my city and I initially came to lend her my aid against the local Institute.” His face darkens. “But then I saw what she had been doing, the atrocities she had been committing right under my nose.”

Alec watches him, honestly a little surprised at the genuine fury, the repulsion he can read in the warlock’s expression at Iris Rouse’s actions.

He frowns slightly, honestly wanting to shake himself. This mindset is exactly what he means with warlocks not having it easy in this world. Alec _shouldn’t_ be surprised that another warlock finds Rouse’s actions just as abhorrent as Alec himself does. Of course he does. _Anyone_ would.

It’s just… With the Clave’s all-Downworlders-are-evil-by-nature rhetoric combined with his parents’ teachings and Alec’s own experiences in dealing with various offenders against the accords over the years, sometimes he has to actively remind himself that his view of Downworlders is more than a little skewed, that most Downworlders live entirely peaceful lives and thus never cross his path at all. That it’s only ever the bad apples Alec himself gets to deal with to punish them for their crimes.

Magnus is watching him, eyes intent but still nothing particularly demanding or aggressive about him. “I already hunted Iris down, as is my duty as the High Warlock. She is awaiting trial at the Spiral Labyrinth and will not be an issue again.”

There is some part of Alec that almost wants to protest, wants to demand that the warlock who committed such atrocious crimes in his city be taken to Idris to be punished. But. There is something in Magnus’ not-at-all-friendly smile, something so unforgiving and dark shimmering through his eyes at declaring Rouse a non-issue, that has Alec suddenly feeling fairly certain that no matter what sort of punishment the Clave might dish out to Rouse, it likely won’t hold a candle to what her own kind will do to her.

Alec can’t help but feel viciously satisfied at the thought.

Although…

“She fled with another child from her house,” he starts. “A little girl. We weren’t fast enough to prevent Rouse from taking her.”

Magnus nods calmly. “Madzie. She was still with Iris when I found them and Madzie is currently resting in my home. She is safe and will be well looked after.”

Alec sighs out slightly in relief. Because the thought of Rouse getting away with one of the warlock children she _bred_, had honestly kept him awake last night. Well, beyond the regular demands for another feed from Max of course.

Though, he is still waiting for an answer to his earlier question on just how this warlock found him here. “So, how did you…?” He gestures at himself and the random table at the random café in the random park he is currently at.

Magnus tilts his head slightly, his jewelry glinting with the movement, the make-up around his eyes shimmering in the sunlight.

_Angel, he is pretty._

Then.

** _Focus_ ** _, Alec._

“It was easy tracking the baby from Iris’ house,” the warlock is replying casually. “There was enough of his mother’s blood still entwined with his life force for me to track him using a blood scrying spell.”

A fluid shrug, like it’s easy, obvious. Despite Alec’s – admittedly, not-so-frequent – dealings with warlocks over the years telling him that what Magnus is describing so very nonchalantly really isn’t in any way easy _or_ obvious at all. At least not according to any of the other warlocks Alec has ever come in contact with.

_Then again, there must be a reason he is the **High** **Warlock**, the leader of all warlocks in this city._

“It’s not often I get to see a Shadowhunter truly caring for one of my kind,” Magnus then hums with a slight smile, eyes still focused on him. Alec can hear the ‘much less a Lightwood’ that is absolutely implied without it being said.

Which, fair enough. Even Alec would be hard-pressed to think of an instance where he’d seen a Shadowhunter be truly kind to a Downworlder, much less have them be gentle or nurturing or – angel forbid – caring.

Which only emphasizes how odd it is for Magnus to seem so very calm about all of this.

Alec honestly keeps expecting the warlock to do something or say something or demand that Alec hand over the child to him, has to force himself to not try and hide Max away in some way as something in him is very much demanding at the thought someone might try to take the baby. Like covering Max with his jacket is just going to make Magnus forget about the baby in Alec’s arm.

But instead, Magnus’ eyes just remain on Alec, attentive and watchful, but still so utterly calm.

_Maybe he really has been watching me with Max for a while before approaching, so he knows I at least mean him no harm. Or maybe…_

Or maybe Alec is missing something about all of this. Something that is making Magnus so clearly willing to give Alec a chance where a defenseless warlock child is concerned, when even Alec himself can admit that if it were him in Magnus’ position, he’d likely try to take the child. If only because, growing up amongst his own kind, will likely make for a life of far less contention.

But he needs Magnus to know that Alec in no way intends to let anyone take this child from him, High Warlock or not.

“His mother died in childbirth,” he thus supplies. “She bled out right front of me and I promised her I would take care of her son.” He says it calmly, but unmistakably makes his intention to keep little Max clear.

Magnus’ eyes on him are still intent and watchful and appraising in a way that feels like he is looking all the way down to Alec’s very soul.

But then, something seems to give, the warlock’s lips finally tilting into a warm smile, like he found whatever he might have been looking for in Alec’s expression, now something gentle and genuine and reassuring in his gaze.

“Do not worry about any warlock trying to take him from you,” Magnus says. “You are the first to hold him, the first to care for him, the one who was there when his mother died and his connection to her was ripped away. So, his magic latched on to you instead as the magic of newborn warlocks tends to do, bonding itself to you. Taking him from you forcefully right now would be… bad, traumatizing even.” He tilts his head. “Actually, if any Downworlder gets the idea of trying to take him from you, please let me know. I’ll be happy to educate them on the matter.”

Alec blinks in honest surprise at that bit of information, even as he eyes the smile currently on the pretty warlock’s face. A smile has way too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly. A smile that is also rather ridiculously attractive.

Alec almost wants to sigh in exasperation at himself.

_Honestly_, he thinks sardonically. _How about I stick to one major upheaval in my life within one forty-eight-hour time period? Becoming a father and adopting a warlock baby out of the blue really should be enough. No need to add a sexuality crisis on top of that._

Then again… Well. Magnus is _pretty_. Like. Rather ridiculously so. Alec can admit that much.

Though, what he just said about Max’s magic… Well, it at least explains why Magnus seems willing to consider accepting a Shadowhunter taking care of a warlock child, unbothered by all the hindrances that Alec knows will be facing.

“Though, I can’t help but wonder how the Clave will react to a Shadowhunter willingly taking in a warlock child,” Magnus then not-quite-asks.

Alec scoffs, ignores his own worries in that matter. Because the relief at realizing that – with Magnus apparently willing to accept Alec as Max’s caretaker for now – he might not be forced to fight for his son on two fronts after all rather monumental. If Magnus is actually telling the truth and he truly doesn’t intend to take Max from him… Well, if he has the High Warlock on his side, he really can’t see how anyone else is going to make a fuss about it.

Sure, he is under no illusion that Magnus likely intends to keep a rather close eye on him in order to ensure Max being properly taken care of. But that thought honestly bothers Alec much less than it likely should. Yeah, the thought of Magnus sticking around in some capacity doesn’t really bother him all.

“The Clave doesn’t get a say,” he then asserts in reply to Magnus’ rather leading statement. “I’m a Lightwood, the Lightwood _heir_ no less. The Clave knows better than to mess with family matters of the old lines. They simply don’t have the authority. Even if it’s about a warlock child.” He pauses. “Or rather, _especially_ if it’s about a warlock child.”

Which is the absolute truth. The Clave very explicitly has no say in how the old Shadowhunter lines run themselves, which includes the adoption of whoever they please into their families without the Clave getting any say in it. Sure, that’s supposed to only apply to Shadowhunters adopting other Shadowhunters, but Alec spent quite a bit of time looking into Idris’ family law last night, checked what their books might have to say about it.

Turns out, Downworlders simply aren’t mentioned anywhere. At all. Not even to exclude them from being potentially adopted.

Magnus just chuckles rather delightedly at that. “Oh, I know,” he smiles, all deviously crinkled eyes. “Isn’t it just wonderful how the Clave, in their truly _breathtaking_ narrow-mindedness, always forgets to explicitly exclude Downworlders from their laws? Because, _surely_, no Shadowhunter could ever possibly want to adopt a Downworlder.”

Alec can’t help but let his own lips tilt into a smile as well.

Because, yeah. That’s exactly it.

And, yes, they’ll complain and likely try to pass some more laws to close the loopholes that will absolutely permit Alec to keep Max right now. But his choice to care for a warlock or no, once it comes to protecting their own power, their independence from the Clave, the other old lines will immediately throw their own weight behind Alec’s cause. Not because they approve but solely to prevent the Clave from establishing any sort of precedent of getting a say in the old lines’ family matters in the future.

Although, that reminds him…

“This bond you mentioned…,” he trails off. “What exactly does that entail?”

Magnus tilts his head, still watching him so very attentively. But after a few seconds, he simply starts to explain, easily talks about children newly born but already carrying so much power within themselves without any way of controlling their magic by themselves, talks about the bond formed between warlock children and their mothers, a bond of mutual protection, a bond of the parent’s control being lent to help the newborn warlock reign in powers that in their very nature are supposed to be destruction given physical form. How it’s give and take. How Alec is now Max’s anchor, a bond that will somewhat dissipate with time as Max grows older, will change a little, but never disappear entirely, will always somewhat remain all throughout either of their lives. It's apparently how warlocks pick family, their very magic getting involved. It's something Alec has never even heard of before and based on the way Magnus is still watching him, he wonders how much trust the man is currently putting in him by telling him something about warlocks that seems to have been kept rather... quiet by his kind, kept away from Shadowhunters at the very least. 

Although, the part about the bond that Alec finds most interesting – or rather, endlessly reassuring – is that bit about this bond apparently being impossible to break by any outside forces, like a parabatai bond, only possible to sever from within the bond itself. His son’s magic now forever anchored within Alec, a bond impossible to break, impossible to circumvent, impossible to shield against.

Meaning – according to Magnus – that from now on Alec will always be able track Max, that he will always be able to find his son, no matter where he might be or who he might be with. 

Something in him relaxes at that, something he hadn’t even realized had been tense and aggressively at-the-ready, practically snarling in defensiveness at the knowledge that – no matter how hard he may try – Alec simply won’t be able to always be one-hundred percent alert for the next decade or two until Max can fully protect himself, that there will be instances along the way where someone or other might get their chance to go after Max.

But with this bond humming between them, no one will be able to simply take him and keep him away from Alec. Not without Alec being able to immediately track them down and promptly tear through whoever thought it a good idea to take his son from him.

Across from him, Magnus is smiling slightly now, something a little softer, a little warmer in his eyes that definitely wasn’t there before, even when he finally gets done explaining, a comfortable silence stretching between them. And Alec can’t help but wonder how talking to this man can be so easy, so natural, so effortless. Despite them having met less barely an hour ago and despite them discussing one difficult, contentious topic after another.

Then, Magnus is leaning slightly forward in his seat, reaching out slowly to softly run his finger down little Max’s cheek, something so warm and soft in his eyes as he watches the baby sleep that Alec somehow isn't even tempted to lean away, to somehow shield Max from Magnus. At all.

“I am glad he found someone to truly care for him,” the warlock finally says, glancing up at Alec still leaning forward, in Alec’s space, if only to be closer to Max.

And Alec suddenly wonders whether his son might not honestly benefit from having someone like this – powerful and uncompromising and devoted to his people and so truly, breathtakingly gentle – in his life in the future.

Like he is reading Alec’s mind, Magnus then adds in that same lilting, soft tone, “And please feel free to let me know if you ever need help in taking care of him or have questions about the not-so-angelic side of his ancestry.” A smile, honest and genuine in a way Alec rather rarely gets to see. “I am truly happy to help.”

And okay, Alec is more than happy to agree to that offer.

He’s heard it’s good for babies to see different people anyway, something about social skills he thinks. And, surely, another warlock qualifies for that.

Which sounds plausible enough as a reason to give everyone else for the way Alec is immediately saving Magnus’ number in his phone, right?

And if that list of reasons might be quite a bit longer in Alec’s own head and also maybe includes the stunning warlock’s pretty, pretty smile and his pretty, pretty eyes somewhere rather close to the top of said list? Well, that’s really no one’s business but his own, now is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this scene didn't quite turn out how I had intended but, oh well XD Also, I honestly don’t know if I’ll add anything else to this particular premise, though if I do, it’s likely going to be rather time-skippy. As in, weeks passing in between scenes or something. Probably. I think. 
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your comments and kudos!


	30. Safeguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Magnus hadn’t been able to bring himself to steal Alec’s stele? (An AU of 1x09 where Magnus doesn't go along with the plan and instead decides he’d rather protect Alec from the heartbreak his siblings’ betrayal would inevitably cause him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is angst. But angst in order to prevent worse angst? If that makes sense.

Magnus feels a frown forming on his face as he watches Alexander through the wood paneling in the hallway.

Alexander who is in the room beyond the wall Magnus just made perfectly see-through – at least to himself – and who is poking at the wound on his arm, shirt mostly off, wincing in pain as he pulls off the rather shoddily applied bandage on his wound, vulnerable in this moment of thinking himself alone with no one around to see, no one to hide himself from.

Magnus winces in sympathetic pain as he watches Alexander trying to clean up the wound, wanting nothing more than to join him, step into the room and once more offer his help in healing him.

You know, instead of sneakily watching to find the best point in time to steal his stele for Jace to break into his parabatai’s safe with.

Which is just…

Magnus feels the frown on his face darkening. He already knows he won’t go through with it, won’t take Alexander’s stele, won’t give Jace the chance to steal the Cup.

Whether Alexander decided to get engaged to someone else or not.

Something about the way Jace and Izzy threw that little tidbit of information into the conversation while trying to convince Magnus to help them, the way they had told Magnus about their brother’s engagement to Lydia Branwell, added it in with such casual, righteous anger. Like Alexander deciding to marry someone else should somehow make Magnus more willing to help them, like it should make him want to get some sort of petty revenge on Alexander in turn, just for apparently not returning Magnus’ interest. At least not to the point Magnus had almost let himself hope. Not enough to make a difference.

Like their brother somehow deserves to be punished for making that decision.

It honestly angered him, hearing them talk so callously about a decision their brother so clearly made for everybody’s sake _but_ his own. Magnus doesn’t approve of the decision itself – even setting his own interest for things to go differently aside – because he’s seen this play out so many times before, has seen so many people, so many of his own friends make that choice before, choose their loyalties over their own happiness.

Don’t get him wrong. Not every arranged or political marriage ends in misery, not at all. With both parties aware what exactly they are agreeing to, most arrangements like that start and end neutrally, and he’s even seen some of them turn out rather well. Still, those are the good ones, the ones which don’t breed resentment, the ones that aren’t full of regrets.

Either way, even in the best cases, tying oneself to another for _other_ people’s sake very rarely leads to any sort of happiness.

And that’s really all Magnus wishes for Alexander. Happiness.

Happiness which very much doesn’t include Alexander finding himself betrayed by the two people he so very clearly trusts most in this world.

Sure, there had been a moment, a few seconds right when Jace and Izzy had tried to sell the idea of their plan to him, where Magnus had honestly considered helping them.

If only because their plan also very much includes them freeing Meliorn before the seelie can be taken to Idris, something which Magnus wishes on no Downworlder and especially not on someone like Meliorn who is just high-up enough within the Seelie Queen’s court to actually have information the Clave might consider worth torturing out of him. As the Clave likely realized, or there simply wouldn’t be enough reason for them to risk pissing off the Seelie Queen by arresting one of her knights otherwise.

So, the idea of helping the Shadowhunters steal the Cup in order to give them enough incentive to then free Meliorn – you know, since they will have burned all their bridges with the Clave, the Institute, and their brother by that point anyway – had honestly been tempting.

For all of a second.

But then, the thought of Alexander inevitably finding out about the betrayal – not so much Magnus’ involvement, since that will likely seem _utterly negligible_ in comparison to Izzy and Jace’s betrayal – made the breath in Magnus’ own chest stutter in empathic pain.

Once Alexander realizes what his siblings did… It will break his heart.

Magnus just can’t do that to him.

Not to even mention that there is also something about the fact that even while planning to betray their brother and parabatai, _even then_, Izzy and Jace still asked for the easy way, for Magnus to magic them their way around Alec’s vigilance, for someone else to take part of the responsibility.

Magnus has never been much of a fan of cowardice. In any form.

And, yes, hearing that Alexander decided to propose to Lydia, right when Magnus had thought the two of them were finally getting a little closer, Alexander finally softening some of his defenses around him, opening up to Magnus about his struggles and his thoughts, actually asking him for his opinions on things… It hurt. More than it should, really, considering they really haven’t known each other for all that long.

But what little time they spent together was apparently more than enough for Magnus’ heart to do what it always does, namely become utterly and hopelessly attached.

Thing is, Magnus has never been one for half-hearted devotion and the question whether his feelings are actually requited has never once factored into it for him.

So. Standing in the hallway, watching Alexander trying to take care of the Forsaken wound on his arm that he got while trying to protect his Institute from an intruder, wincing all the while, obviously in pain, Magnus knows there is no way he can go through with actually breaking Alexander’s trust so very thoroughly by taking his stele.

To the contrary.

He is rather determined to make sure no one else does either, if only to protect Alexander from the pain of realizing that his siblings ever intended anything of the sort.

+++

Alec glances up at the sudden knock on the door, so absolutely not in the mood to deal with anyone at all at the moment, about to refuse entry to whoever might be on the other side.

But before he gets the chance to say anything at all the door is already opening, Magnus fluidly stepping inside, not waiting for his response, eyes on Alec even as he closes the door behind himself.

Alec doesn’t even have it in himself to protest, instead watches almost resignedly as Magnus carefully - but still so very gracefully - crosses the room towards him.

_Of course it would be Magnus_, Alec thinks, tries for exasperated but ends up with that odd but wonderful mixture of warmth and excited happiness that he always seems to get when seeing the warlock. He so wishes it weren’t quite as wonderful a feeling as it tends to be.

“I thought I’d offer my help with healing that wound once more,” Magnus says even as he reaches Alec where he is still sitting back against the table.

Because of course he would insist on healing Alec. Of course Alec rejecting his offer of help once wasn’t enough to deter him. Because when has Magnus ever done anything other than exactly that – help in any way he could without ever demanding anything in return – ever since they met.

Earlier, when Magnus had offered his help after re-tuning the wards – you know, right after Alec’s father had stomped off with that wonderfully petty comment that would honestly have done a pouting toddler proud about how Lydia would take care of the bill – Alec had outright refused to let Magnus heal him, practically ran away as quickly as he could.

But every time he so much as thinks about being alone with Magnus, of being in a position where he can’t reasonably avoid talking to Magnus anymore, he can feel something almost like panic tightening in his chest.

Because, he hasn’t told Magnus yet. Magnus doesn’t _know_, is offering him help without any idea that things have changed so significantly since they last talked.

Just yesterday when Alec told Magnus things he has never spoken aloud before, likely won’t ever again. About his disappointment with the Clave and his parents and the crushing realization that he has been giving all of himself for them, for their cause, only to be repaid in hypocrisy and double-standards and lies.

And Magnus had listened, so openly and attentively, before suggesting softly that maybe Alec should start living for himself, to do what’s in his heart.

Magnus had said it so simply, so easily.

Not like Izzy tends to when she tells Alec that he can’t just continue living for others. Or like Jace who usually just asks Alec rather confusedly why he is doing just that. And certainly not like his mother, who takes every sacrifice he makes like it is a given and then only ever demands more.

No, Magnus said it like it was an honest suggestion, like it was an actual, conscious, _valid_ choice he could make. Not like Alec was doing anything wrong or even doing anything right by living for others. But rather like it was an actual decision to do either.

A choice. For or against.

A suggestion which, instead of taking it as it had clearly been intended, Alec had then twisted into justification to propose to Lydia. Which is, admittedly, neither doing what’s in his heart nor living for himself.

But it was still a choice, a choice he made consciously and fully aware of what it entailed. A choice that will ensure he will get to hold on to all the things he worked so hard for over the years, no matter his family’s various screw-ups.

A choice he hasn’t actually told Magnus about yet.

And here the warlock is again offering his help so very freely. As he always does.

“May I?” Magnus is asking, already reaching out, hand lifted towards his arm. But not quite touching without Alec’s explicit permission.

And earlier when Magnus offered his help, Alec just brushed him aside, rather aggressively so, simply because he is turning out to be more of a coward about having this conversation than he himself had thought. But they are already alone now, just the two of them, and it’s really time Alec stops avoiding this.

So, he just nods at Magnus’ question, gives up on his denial, lowers his own hand from where he had been trying to clean the cut.

He sees Magnus’ lips tilting up slightly, obvious relief at Alec letting him heal the wound, even as his magic instantly flickers to life between his fingers, smoothly covering the gash, soothingly cool against the inflamed wound.

Alec tries not to watch Magnus weaving his magic too intently, tries not to stare.

There is something so fluid and graceful and casually powerful in the way Magnus molds his magic, always has been. It is rather breathtaking to watch.

_I don’t have that right any longer_, he reminds himself with a frown. _I’m engaged. I do not get to stare at other people anymore just because I decided to marry someone I know I will never be able to love._

There are several moments of silence between them, Magnus healing him and Alec losing some of his tension at the pain quickly seeping out of his arm.

“And how are you doing with everything, Alexander?” Magnus finally asks into the quiet, voice so careful, like he doesn’t quite know what sort of reaction to expect.

Alec almost wants to wince at the tone, the care in it, the caution.

He can’t even blame Magnus. Alec is fully aware that he himself is the one who keeps jumping back and forth between acting like there couldn’t possibly ever be anything between them, but then flipping right around to seek Magnus out for drinks or advice or for pouring out his heart and entrusting him with parts of himself that he hasn’t shared with anyone, forgetting to hide how much the warlock’s opinion means to him. It’s a wonder Magnus hasn’t already gotten tired of the whiplash Alec keeps giving him with his back and forth.

Alec wants to sigh out tiredly, honestly wishing he could just go back to the days where his biggest problem was his own uncertainty whether he might not be in love with his parabatai, the one person he knew full-well was utterly unattainable, and thus the absolute safest person for Alec to fixate on while knowing nothing would ever come of it.

Things were simple then.

Alec misses it rather desperately.

He glances up at Magnus who is still watching him, sees the way the warlock’s eyes have shuttered slightly at his silence, apparently having accepted that Alec has done yet another flip where the two of them are concerned and is once more back to his I-deny-everything persona.

_He doesn’t deserve this_, Alec thinks to himself.

And if nothing else, Alec at least owes it to Magnus to tell him about his engagement himself.

_Damnit all,_ he thinks frustrated at his own hesitance. _I had the guts to get down on one knee and propose to someone I know I am never going to love and who I know is never going to love me either._ _Telling Magnus should be easy in comparison._

Except it isn’t.

There is something in Alec that doesn’t want to tell Magnus about his engagement at all, a part of him that wants to keep his impending wedding from the warlock for as long as he possibly can. Because once he does, once he tells Magnus, all of _this_ will be over.

Magnus who saw Alec in that club, at that rave, and who has never really looked away since.

Magnus who seems so honestly, genuinely delighted every time he gets to spend time with Alec. Who has made his interest in Alec more than clear, has quite literally spelled it out for him, told him with utter, straightforward honesty that he is interested in Alec, would like to see whether there could be something more between them.

Telling Magnus about his engagement somehow makes it final in Alec’s mind. More final than actually proposing. More final than Lydia saying yes. More final than his parents finding out or telling his siblings.

And maybe that really should tell him something. Then again, none of this is actual news to him.

Alec breathes in, briefly clenches his teeth as he braces himself, and then just comes straight out with it.

“I’m getting married,” he announces, glad to hear that his voice comes out steady, even if his fingers twitch against the tabletop with anxiety.

There is a pause as Magnus glances up at him, meets his eyes.

“I heard,” the warlock then nods calmly, fingers still in endless winding motions as he molds his magic. “Your siblings mentioned it.”

Alec blinks.

_Oh_, he thinks, utterly taken aback. A second, two. Then, he can feel a scowl forming on his face. _Well, isn’t it just **wonderful** of them to have this rather personal discussion about my personal business with the one person who definitely deserved hearing about this from me in person in my stead then_.

And, yep, the anger is definitely back.

Ever since they found out about his engagement, his siblings have made their disapproval more than clear. More than that. They have been acting like Alec _personally offended_ them by proposing to Lydia.

All the while neither of them has yet to think to ask him _why_ he made that choice, why he thought that allying their family with Lydia’s is the only way he can see out of this mess. Izzy and Jace are too busy with their disapproval of his choices to even ask him for his reasons, to ask him what might be going on with him. And angel forbid they ever consider whether their own recent actions might possibly have contributed to Alec finding himself so very, utterly stuck.

Everything about their reaction to his engagement pisses him off.

In front of him, Magnus is still watching him, still standing somewhat close, even if only so he can reach his shoulder, hand hovering over his upper arm, as he manipulates his magic to heal Alec.

“I get it, Alec,” Magnus then says. “I get what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. I understand. I even find your willingness to give up so much of yourself for the sake of your family rather admirable.”

Alec watches him right back, waiting, knowing there is more, almost _desperate_ for there to be more.

Because for all Alec has been denying this thing between them as much as he possibly could, having Magnus suddenly so willing to step back, not at all protesting the idea of Alec’s engagement, suddenly conceding that he should be with someone else, seemingly just accepting that they shouldn’t be together, is rather… discomfiting. Heartbreaking, almost.

_How wonderful_, he thinks incredulously. _The one person to get it, to understand my choice, is the one person I don’t necessarily want to approve of my engagement at all_.

Magnus tilts his head the slightest bit, smiles, not quite softly, not nearly as openly warm as usual, but not reluctant or particularly stiff either. It’s kind and somewhat resigned. A brief smile. Fleeting and bittersweet.

“I just think we could have had something,” the warlock then adds, voice low, like an admission made in secret, just for the two of them.

And, yeah. They likely could have.

“I think so, too,” Alec admits lowly, for the first time since they met actually acknowledging out loud that there was ever anything between them at all, that there is potential there which even Alec - for all his inexperience and obliviousness - can feel.

The admission has Magnus obviously falter for a second, blinking at Alec, clearly surprised. Because Alec is apparently that sort of self-centered idiot who somehow managed to give off the impression that he might not return Magnus’ interest at all.

“I do think so,” Alec finds himself repeating, voice low. “I just…” he trails off, doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

The small, rather devastatingly sad smile playing around Magnus’ lips now says the warlock understands anyway.

“I understand,” Magnus returns. “I really do.”

“But?” Alec can’t help but ask, hoping for something that doesn’t sound quite as much like actual approval of Alec’s choice.

_Turns out, I rather liked having a pretty warlock chasing after me_, Alec thinks sad and sardonic and resigned at the same time.

“But,” Magnus picks up Alec’s leading not-quite-question. “I’ve been where you are, made my own choices. And I’ve seen other people in that same position, have seen some of them make the exact choice you are making now.”

He pauses, lowers his hand from Alec’s shoulder, the wound apparently healed now, never mind that Alec had kind of forgotten about it, about that being the reason they are here at all right now, why Alec isn’t wearing a shirt, or why Magnus is standing so close to him.

“I’ve seen this many times before and I do understand the choice you are making,” Magnus repeats, gaze drifting into the middle distance for a few moments, clearly remembering something. Before he focuses on Alec once more. “But I also know that it so very rarely leads to any sort of happiness for anyone involved.”

He says it in a way that tells Alec the warlock isn’t expecting that argument to in any way change Alec’s mind, doesn’t expect Alec’s happiness to even factor into it for him.

And he is right.

Because that’s just it, isn’t it. Alec’s happiness based on what _he_ wants was never really on the table.

For all that everyone – his mother, his sister, his own parabatai – keeps claiming they want what’s best for him, either by way of having him sacrifice everything for his family or by demanding he do nothing of the sort, when was the last time anyone thought to actually ask Alec what he wants, what he thinks would make him _happy_.

Well, aside from Magnus of course.

Because that’s just how his life is turning out.

Alec breathes out, honestly wants to close his eyes, just wants to shut out the world for a little while, utterly exhausted, so very tired of having the one person who seems to get it, to get _him_, also be the one person he can’t actually have.

+++

Magnus leaves the Institute behind, a frown forming on his face the moment he steps outside, away from the many distrustfully watchful eyes.

He didn’t take Alexander’s stele, didn’t pass it on to Jace to use.

The window has passed and the Mortal Cup is still secure in Alexander’s safe.

Magnus twirls his fingers, a portal springing up in front of him for him to step through to his loft, immediately moving towards his study.

Thankfully, Magnus didn’t run into the trio whose wonderfully destructive plan he so effectively voided with that one decision while on his way out of Institute. He really isn’t in the mood to even pretend like he feels any need whatsoever to defend himself against the accusations of three still-in-their-teens Shadowhunters at the moment.

Let them fret over not getting everything they want just handed to them. If anything they should be grateful that Magnus made it impossible for them to betray Alexander so utterly.

He can’t claim he has made his peace with Alexander’s engagement, a part of him very much insisting that he try again, that there is still a chance, that he might still be able to actually have Alexander as he’d almost let himself hope at one point.

But that chance is likely going disappear anyway with what Magnus is planning to do next.

Freeing Meliorn.

Sure, Magnus will make utterly certain that there won’t be any actual evidence linking him to the rescue - you know, since he has absolutely no interest in being dragged to Idris for a trial - but there is a good chance that Alexander will suspect Magnus’ involvement anyway. Which is likely going to put a very effective end to any even vaguely positive relationship they might still have had.

He doesn’t know whether the Shadowhunter actually picked up on the fact that Magnus’ goodbye this time around was a little more final than it usually tends to be between them. But even if he did, Alexander likely assumes it’s his engagement that has Magnus planning to keep his distance from now on.

And once he goes through with Meliorn’s rescue, Alexander likely won’t want anything to do with Magnus anymore anyway.

However, he thinks that the disappointment Alexander will possibly feel at Magnus going behind his back is still an excellent alternative to the utter heartbreak his siblings’ planned betrayal would cause him.

Either way, springing Meliorn himself is sadly still the best solution Magnus has been able to come up with.

His other choices are letting things proceed without interfering, which means Alexander getting his heart broken due to his siblings’ betrayal when they attack the transport, or telling Alexander about his siblings’ plan ahead of time, which however won’t mitigate any of the heartbreak for Alexander and will additionally leave Meliorn stuck as a prisoner.

So, freeing Meliorn before the prisoner transport ever gets to the planned ambush site it is.

It’s not the best of scenarios and he generally likes to avoid getting involved in this sort of thing, if only because going directly and openly against the Clave is rarely a good idea.

But.

He in no way intends to actually give his personal involvement away. All they’ll have to go on is the fact that there was a warlock involved at all. But nothing beyond that. And Magnus himself will be first in line to protest any unjust accusations the Clave might try to start throwing around while searching for the warlock responsible.

Thankfully, the Clave will be perfectly aware that the combination of Magnus shielding his warlocks and even just the potential of the Seelie Queen backing him due to Meliorn’s involvement, the Clave had better bring an airtight case if they want to accuse anyone, lest they promptly find themselves facing off against half of the Downworld in protest.

Still, Magnus quickly strides over to his desk in the study to send out messages to his warlocks in and around the city, a warning for them to stay low for a while, to avoid all Shadowhunters as best they can, not wanting any of his own people to be caught in the immediate crossfire.

Of course, Magnus makes sure not to implicate himself in said messages, doesn’t so much as allude to the very-much-still-in-the-future rescue he is planning. But instead he cautions his people based on the Clave’s recent decision to arrest Meliorn at all, includes a comment about how the Clave is clearly overstepping the Accords, and it would be best for his people to lay low in case this particular arrest might start a trend in the coming days.

He knows his people will heed the warning.

The rescue itself doesn’t really need much planning. That part will be easy.

He’ll have to wait until the prisoner transport leaves the Institute, but that is pretty much all. One step outside the Institute’s wards, and that will be it.

Thankfully, Meliorn knows him well enough to recognize his magic and the seelie’s connection to the earth itself is strong enough for him to easily confirm Magnus’ identity to himself once he knows Magnus is there. So, it should be enough to simply have his magic brush up against Meliorn’s senses in order to give him a heads-up.

Freeing Meliorn will be a simple thing of creating a distraction to give Meliorn a chance to rip himself loose and a portal for the seelie to disappear through. That’s literally it.

The entire rescue should be done within a couple of seconds and not involve any sort of bloodshed. Because a bloodless rescue of a prisoner the Clave had no right actually arresting? That’s the exact sort of thing the Clave likes to sweep under the rug, pretend like it never happened in the first place, lest they lose face by admitting how easily they were bested.

The one thing about the entire plan that pains him is the fact that he knows Alexander himself will be leading the team transporting Meliorn to Idris. Magnus is still hoping that particular arrangement will be changed, if only to spare Alexander the reprimand for losing a prisoner under his watch.

But even if Alexander is there, this is still the best solution to the utter mess they are all in that Magnus has been able to come up with. It’s the best he can do.

He already voided Jace’s plan to break into Alexander’s safe, so the Mortal Cup remains where it was. And if Meliorn isn’t a captive any longer, then there won’t be any need for Izzy to stage the attack on the transport.

So, even if Magnus will have to stay away from now on, if he has to avoid the Institute in general and a certain Shadowhunter in particular, at least Alexander will be spared the heartbreak of ever knowing about his siblings’ plan at all, hopefully won’t ever find out just how far his siblings were prepared to go in order to get their way.

And that will just have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oookay. So, I know Alec’s headspace in this is a little different from how I usually write him but this is how I see his inner turmoil during that brief phase that canon so happily glossed over for his character, right in-between having the rug pulled out from under him where his parents are concerned, quickly losing faith in the institution he built his entire life around, his parabatai drifting away from him, and everything he ever worked for slipping through his fingers. And thus, him ending up with his not-so-great solution of proposing to Lydia, because he simply couldn’t see a different way out. 
> 
> Also, I watched this particular episode all of once, decided I hated it, and have since refused to acknowledge it even exists, but now I can’t for the life of me remember why they decided to transport the high-profile prisoner all across the city instead of just portaling to Idris from inside the Institute. Anyone able to help me out? If they didn’t give a reason in canon it’s also fine, I got an explanation ready, but I was just wondering whether the show had its own reasoning behind that particular bit of rather… questionable decision-making.
> 
> And, yes, there will be angst in this but, no matter what I may have alluded to in this chapter, the angst will be very much between Alec and his siblings and not at all between Malec. Because, no. Just. No. XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your comments and kudos!!


	31. Safeguard (author's note)

Just letting you know that I’m turning ‘Safeguard’ into its own fic as part 3 of the 'Tipping the scales' series. It’s called ‘Hold back the day’ and I’ve already added another chapter to the fic but I won’t post any new additions here, if only to avoid any confusion.

And thank you all so so much for your lovely comments, motivating me to make this its own fic! I absolutely adore you all <3


	32. Triangles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where the Lightwoods siblings are just a little more of an inseparable unit than they were in canon (you know, as they kept claiming throughout the series despite all the evidence to the contrary), so Clary’s wrecking-ball approach to everything gets her nowhere. And which somehow ends with Alec taking Simon under his wing as yet another pseudo-brother.

Simon tries to pretend nonchalance where he is standing next to Clary in these so-called Shadowhunters’ super-secret hideout.

It’s currently four of them, with Simon and Clary trying not to look too out-of-place, the blonde leather-loving Shadowhunter – who Clary seems practically spellbound by, even if Simon himself can see why – and lastly the holy-shit-people-that-hot-actually-_do_-exist-outside-of-movies girl, Isabelle, who is honestly so stunning it has Simon a little bit speechless.

Which – ask anyone who has ever met him –isn’t something easily achieved.

Then again, he also just found out that his best friend has super powers. And he quite honestly doesn’t know whether to roll his eyes in exasperation or snort in amusement at the utter ridiculousness of it all.

You know, since his life has apparently decided to adapt the plot of a standard fantasy novel – and not even a particularly creative one at that – just a little while ago, when Clary discovered her wondrous, magical heritage. Which, while kind of awesome – because, powers! – regrettably also lives up to the other standards of fantasy novels everywhere, meaning things like a couple of megalomaniac villains and power struggles and far too much self-adulating ain’t-we-the-personification-of-goodness. All of which somehow led to Clary’s mom getting kidnapped. By one of aforementioned super-villains. Which sounds ludicrous and is also decidedly less fun than Simon would honestly prefer.

Although, let him just say, this already smacks far too much of supposed-to-only-happen-in-fiction, so if he hears someone so much as _mention_ the words ‘the chosen one’, Simon is so grabbing Clary and they’re out of here. For all his love of comics and the fantasy genre in general, there is only so much real-life sci-fi he is willing to deal with.

Though… He glances at Clary. Going by the way she can barely keep her eyes off blonde-boy-wonder over there, Simon isn’t actually all that sure that she’d follow him out if he were to leave.

Which sucks. Like, really sucks.

They’re supposed to be a team. And whenever he daydreamed about his real life and science fiction intertwining, he certainly hadn’t imagined himself as the negligible best friend sidekick. No, that bit really isn’t living up to his imagination about all this.

However, the point is they are standing on some sort of raised platform, right by a neat collection of various bladed weapons – ‘cause, you know, fantasy-novel-come-to-life is still very much in effect – and they are waiting for the third one, the tall-and-severely-frowning one, to get back from wherever he wandered off to.

The guy – Alec, was it? – who seemed so utterly unimpressed with Clary and Simon earlier, his disapproving stare ridiculously enough started to almost feel _physical_ from all the way across the room. Which, kudos to him, but Simon had still breathed an honest sigh of relief when the guy had split from the group to get them the permission they need from… what was it again? The Clave? Or something like that. Because between these three ridiculously hot, apparently angel-blooded fantasy novel characters, that Alec guy is clearly also the one actually in charge.

Well, Simon can honestly say, he doesn’t get the dynamics of these three. Because Alec does seem to be officially in charge but he still so easily conceded to what blondie and Isabelle asked of him instead of sticking to what he clearly thinks they _should_ be doing.

Then again, with the three of them being siblings - or at the very least apparently having grown up together, that much Simon is sure of - maybe he perfectly understands their dynamic after all. Simon can’t even count the number of times he conceded to one of Clary’s less-than-entirely-thought-out plans just because she oh-so-effectively pouted him into going along with it. Never mind how easily his own sister can wheedle him into things.

In front of them, Izzy seems to be lovingly petting the weapons on the rack – which, again, so damn hot it has Simon’s brain honestly stall for a few seconds – right until blondie – and, yes, Simon is fully aware of ‘blondie’s’ actual name but he is rather pettily refusing to use it… because, reasons that of course have nothing to do with the way Clary is still so utterly mesmerized by this guy… – comes wandering up from behind them, cheerfully smacking her hand away from the weapons.

“No, Izzy,” he scolds humorously, teasing grin on his face.

She huffs but steps back a little, her gaze still longingly fixated on the blades. Then she shrugs and notes almost casually, “Fifty bucks says he won’t approve of this mission anyway.”

Simon doesn’t even get a chance to wonder which ‘he’ they are talking about, though he thinks he can guess. Because right then, tall-and-frowning comes striding back towards them.

“I don’t approve of this mission,” Alec says, voice assertive, making Izzy grin, throwing an ‘I told you so’ shrug blondie’s way. “I talked to the Clave. They are sending seelie scouts but they were absolutely clear, the little girl does not leave the Institute.”

Clary looks utterly enraged at that moniker. Although, before she can protest as she is rather clearly intending to do, blondie speaks up with an apologetic glance at Clary, apparently willing to concede Alec’s assessment of the situation. “Alec has a point,” he says carefully.

Clary immediately looks so betrayed at that, at him not siding with her like he has been doing until now. Like she honestly expected this blond guy to side with her against his siblings just because Clary wanted him to. “We have to do something!” she exclaims.

Blondie seems to almost wince at the accusing expression she is focusing on him as he adds, clearly trying for reassuring, “Seelie scouts are the best spies there are. If the Clave sent some of them out looking for your mother, it would be best to wait until they get back to us with some intel or we risk compromising each other’s missions.”

Clary’s mouth is tilting down and the sight makes Simon almost want to sigh. He knows that Clary isn’t hearing anything they are telling her, isn’t hearing that this Clave apparently has their best people on the job, that everyone is trying to help her. The only thing she hears is that things aren’t going _her_ way.

Then again, she’s always had the bad habit of butting heads with whoever is in charge around her, never satisfied with following anyone’s lead, always utterly certain that _her_ way is the _only_ way.

_And, boy, has it gotten the two of us into a load of trouble over the years._

So, he isn’t at all surprised when Clary does what she always does when someone doesn’t give her what she wants. She turns on the not-so-metaphorical waterworks. “But...,” she starts, and Simon has always admired how she can switch from bitchiest-bitch-to-ever-bitch to I’m-just-a-helpless-little-girl-you-have-to-help-me within a heartbeat. “I have to- It’s my _mother_…,” she trails off so very helplessly, all wide eyes and almost-trembling lips.

And, yeah, if Simon hadn’t seen this act so so many times before while Clary got them whatever the two of them wanted - from their parents or their teachers or even from random pedestrians if need be - he’d absolutely believe that act as well.

However, off to the side, Izzy is now raising an eyebrow at the side, suddenly something far more shrewd in her eyes as she watches Clary. Like she recognizes emotional manipulation when she sees it and is apparently less than impressed by someone trying to turn it on one of her brothers. Which, okay, Simon gets that.

And, Alec, well, the guy just outright scoffs at Clary, looking like he is just a moment away from rolling his eyes at her, but in the end simply doesn’t bother deigning her outburst with an actual reply, so obviously just entirely unimpressed with her as he turns back towards his siblings.

_Ouch_, Simon thinks.

Going by her reddening face, Clary is less than happy at the obvious dismissal as well.

Well, at least Jace seems defenseless against Clary’s tearful entreaty going by the fixated way he stares at her. Then again, in order for this entire situation to classify as a proper fantasy novel, someone has to play the role of dashing hero to help the damsel-in-supposed-distress.

Jace is blinking under Clary’s hopeful stare. “Although,” he then says slowly, turning back towards the other two, immediately making them focus rather suspicious frowns on him. “There _is_ another option that the seelies won’t be able to use...”

The slightest pause.

“Don’t you even-,” Izzy immediately points at Jace, at the same time as Alec promptly interjects decisively, “Absolutely not.”

_Huh_, Simon thinks. _Can they read each other’s minds or something? Maybe another of their ‘Shadowhunter’ skills…_

Jace huffs at being shot down so very immediately. “I’m not afraid of the Silent Brothers,” he grumbles as though that makes any sense whatsoever, a sort of grumpy scowl on his face now which is almost… endearing?

…Nope. Simon didn’t just think that. He denies everything.

Alec's in turn looks less than impressed. “I so absolutely do not care what you claim to be scared of,” he asserts, definite command in his voice. “We are not visiting the Silent Brothers.”

Jace grumbles but finally subsides, though with that same expression on his face. Well, Alec somehow manages to look utterly impassive while also giving off the definite impression of scowling in exasperation, and Izzy is grinning broadly, clearly amused as she watches her brothers argue like children.

Simon himself… Well, he is mostly distracted just by how insanely good-looking these three are. It almost makes him want to huff in utter exasperation. Because, the three of them standing together like that… Honestly, how can anyone - much less three of them - be _that_ stupidly attractive.

Simon is so distracted by the sight of them he almost misses the gleam in Clary’s eyes where she is standing beside him, the gleam that says she definitely picked up on the mention of these ‘Silent Brothers’ – whatever that might be – and that there is no way she isn’t going to try and make use of it.

Even worse, Simon is so distracted by the unfairly attractive people in front of him, he forgets to be apprehensive of whatever plan Clary is surely concocting in that head of hers.

* * *

“Clary,” Simon says anxiously, but nonetheless trailing after his best friend. As he always does. “This is so not a good idea.”

They are somewhere at the edge of the city, following the directions to where they can supposedly find these ‘Silent Brothers’. Directions that Clary somehow managed to wheedle out of one of the Shadowhunters at the Institute.

Because, of course she did. Simon sighs quietly to himself, but continues to dutifully follow after her. It’s not like he can actually leave, considering it would leave Clary entirely on her own. You know, since it’s just the two of them. No one else.

Which by itself is already making anxiety curl in Simon’s gut. Because poking at the supernatural after having known about its existence for less than a day, without taking someone along who knows what they are doing or at the very least telling someone what they are planning to do seems rather… idiotic, to be entirely honest.

“I need to find my mother Simon,” she just huffs. “Hodge said the entrance to get to the Silent Brothers should be somewhere around here.”

Because of course Clary had just gone ahead and went up to one of the other Shadowhunters, inquiring innocently about these Silent Brothers she had heard about, all guileless curiosity and honest interest. And of course she got the information she wanted. Which is nothing new.

Simon just wishes they had someone along who actually knows what they are doing. You know, just in case this doesn’t work out as Clary is clearly expecting it to. Like most of her plans very much tend not to.

“We should have taken one of those other guys along,” he frets, keeping his voice low. There is something about this place that is giving him the creeps, honest-to-god goosebumps shivering along his arms.

“They didn’t want to help,” she scowls dismissively, all self-righteous anger. “So, I’m going to get my mother back on my own.”

_On your own? _Simon almost wants to ask. _So, what am I, then? Chopped liver?_

_I really should have known better than to jinx myself_, he wants to lament barely a few minutes later when he finds himself dangling upside down in the grip of someone with more fangs than any human should have, not to even mention the speed and the strength and the very clearly stated lust for blood…

_Just wonderful_, he thinks. _Would have been nice if someone had told me that vampires apparently are a thing as well_.

* * *

Thankfully, he isn’t stuck at the vampires’ lair for too long.

The three Shadowhunters come to his rescue, getting him out relatively unharmed. Well, Clary is also along for the ride, but at this point Simon is just going to assume it’s not her presence that has the vampires so very clearly hesitating to actually do any real harm to Simon.

You know, aside from already having _fed_ on him. Because, such is his life now, apparently.

Outside of the hotel, back in daylight and thus safe – and thanks be to whichever higher power might be listening for that bit about vampires being sensitive to sunlight actually being true – the throw down between Alec and Clary is rather spectacular.

Mostly because Alec is so clearly pissed. Which somehow comes across all the more intimidating since his expression remains utterly impassive except for his slightly narrowed eyes while he rips into Clary. Oh, and his tone of voice, which is honestly making something in Simon want to hide. Under a table. Or in a dark corner somewhere.

Most importantly, the other two seem to be sticking with Alec on this, Isabelle especially looking less than impressed with Clary and even Jace isn’t speaking up on her behalf. Even Clary can seemingly tell that if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut for once she’ll likely lose whatever support she might still get from these guys, the only people who might be able to help her get her mother back at this point.

Which is likely the only reason why she doesn’t instantly protest when Alec plainly orders her back to the Institute with Jace. “Make sure she actually stays in the Institute this time,” he asserts rather darkly.

Jace nods. For all their lighthearted banter earlier, going by the way his siblings are just following his orders right now, it is rather apparent that even they don’t want to fuck with Alec while he is in his current mood.

Then, Alec is turning towards Clary. “Just to be clear, the next time you pull something like this, I’ll have you sent to Idris. Let them handle your training.”

Jace winces, carefully adds, “That’s a couple of years training at least, Alec. She wouldn’t be able to leave Alicante at all until her training is completed.”

“_Exactly_,” he growls. And, boy, does he have presence. Even Clary is eyeing him warily at this point, keeping her mouth shut instead of protesting as she so clearly wants to. “All the better to teach her not to mess around with things she doesn’t understand. Being trained in Idris will at least make sure she’ll have to bear the weight of any consequences herself instead of bumbling about and then leaving it to other people to clean up the messes.”

Which is apparently too much for Clary, already opening her mouth to protest this – admittedly not entirely inaccurate – assessment of how she tends to handle things.

But a slicing hand gesture from Alec promptly shuts her up once more. He takes a step closer, eyes narrowing in a sort of fury it makes something in Simon want to curl up in a dark corner somewhere. There is every possibility that being back in the vampire den might be safer than truly having to face this guy’s wrath.

Alec’s tone is dark, “If you want to remain ignorant then, _fine_, stay a mundane. But in that case leave the Shadowworld business to people who actually know what they are doing. However, if you insist on messing with the Shadowworld, then you are going to listen to us, the people who are trying to help you.” His tone drops into something even darker. “And if you ever put my siblings at risk again with a stunt like this, I might just decide to remove you entirely from the equation.” He pauses to let that very clear if unspoken threat sink in. “Are we clear?”

Beside Alec, Isabelle and Jace are just watching on, not coming to Clary’s defense in any way. And, well, after this stunt Simon honestly can’t blame them.

And despite the contradictory glint in her eyes, for now even Clary seems unwilling to test Alec’s conviction in this.

Instead she leaves with her blonde adventure as ordered. Jace who doesn’t seem nearly as mesmerized with her as he was just hours ago while still at the Institute, brow a little furrowed as he leads the way. Isabelle just exchanges a glance with her older brother and then turns easily to trail behind the other two, clearly taking the unspoken command of ‘make sure they do as they are told’.

Which leaves only Simon and Alec.

And despite very much not wanting to have Alec’s focus on himself, if nothing else, Simon at least owes the guy his thanks for not letting him rot with the vampires. Before the guy takes off as well.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” he speaks up. Because, manners.

Alec doesn’t even react to his thanks. No acknowledging nod, no assessing glance, not even a simple shrug to show he heard Simon speak at all.

Which, okay, not at all polite but then again, Simon can admit that he and Clary have been nothing but trouble for this guy so far.

“Look,” Simon quickly tags on, afraid the Shadowhunter is going to take off like the others. “I don’t know anything about all of…” he vaguely waves his hand around to encompass this breathtakingly odd turn his life has taken within the last few hours. “…this.”

He swallows. Because in theory? Finding out that the supernatural is a thing sounds awesome. In reality? Very much less so.

He continues, “But is there any way to protect my house against vampires? In case they try to come after me? Like garlic or rock salt or anything really?” He can hear the honest desperation he feels in his own voice. He rambles on, “My mom and my sister don’t know about any of this. I can’t just leave them without protection.” He winces at the overshare, convinced that Alec isn’t the sort to care for his personal drama at all. Yeah, he isn’t all that hopeful that Alec might be willing to help him in any way, almost expects to be brushed off. The guy has been perfectly clear on just how much he detests Simon’s presence.

However, something about what he just said seems to stop the Shadowhunter, his eyes cutting to Simon to finally focus on him, sharp and intently assessing.

Simon blinks, honestly surprised at the sudden regard, but then does his best to smile hopefully up at tall-dark-and-menacingly-brooding. Despite the way his heart is still pounding from too much adrenaline after being at the mercy of creatures so much more powerful than him, with no way of defending himself and the only thought in his head being that if he died there, he wouldn’t even get to say goodbye to his mom or his sister, wouldn’t even be able to make sure that _they_ at least would be safe from the far-more-supernatural-than-expected world they apparently live alongside of. To make sure that - in contrast to him - they’ll never get caught up in anything like this.

Alec watches him, the silence stretching. 

Then, finally, a disgruntled sigh and the rather reluctant sounding concession of, “There are wards against vampires.”

And Simon is so damn grateful that Alec seems willing to somewhat help, even if just by way of some information, he can’t even put it into words. “Great,” he nods eagerly, because ‘wards’ sounds promising, even if a little Harry-Potter-ish, if you ask him. He pauses. “So, how do I go about getting myself some ‘wards’, then?”

Another sigh, something almost resigned in the way Alec supplies, “You need a warlock for that.”

“Alright,” Simon declares enthusiastically. “Thanks, man,” he adds brightly, ignores the mention of yet another fantasy creature come to life, promises himself he’ll set aside some time to freak out over all of this supernatural stuff at some point later this week. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find myself one of those?” he instead asks cheerfully, determined to make use of Alec’s rather unexpected willingness to help.

The guy just scoffs slightly, mouth pulling down. Which, okay. Clearly not a people person. Although, Simon is starting to get the definite impression that Alec’s dislike for him isn’t so much personal than rather just a general state of being for the guy.

Case in point, Alec promptly throws him another annoyed glance, even as he starts walking. “We ask one for a commission.”

“Huh,” Simon hums, happily trailing after the Shadowhunter, emboldened by the ‘we’ in that statement. Then, he can’t help himself any longer, asking eagerly, “Are there a lot of warlocks around? What exactly do they do? I assume, magic? Is it more the Harry Potter sort of magic, you know with wands and a strangely excessive use of Latin, or more the Gandalf sort of magic, with a staff and words infused with power.” He pauses, grin. “Because that would be so _cool_.”

He cheerfully ignores the resigned sigh at his chatter coming from the Shadowhunter walking in front of him.

Because, if every creature from Twilight and Harry Potter and the entirety of Middle Earth are going to be a thing in Simon’s life from now on, then he is going to need some help in getting himself and his family through this alive and, preferably, even with all their body parts intact.

And out of all the people he met so far, Alec is definitely the one who has a clue how to get shit done.

_Yeah, best stick with the guy who clearly knows what he is doing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This was… random? And I know that everyone in this is a little out of character but in exchange no world-building whatsoever for once. Actually, this entire thing started with me challenging myself to write a dynamic I hadn’t written before, which somehow (and rather unexpectedly) ended up being Alec&Simon. Never mind that I started out aiming for Clary&Alec, which however… well, let’s just say, that simply didn’t work out. Like, at all. XD
> 
> And I’m sorry I’ve been absent for so long! RL has been kicking my butt rather effectively, so I didn’t manage to write anything at all for quite some time… And I adore you all for all your many comments and kudos despite my absence, keeping me motivated and spending whatever time I could writing <3
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	33. (The Plunny Poll)

The Plunny Poll:

So. Trying something new, no idea whether this will work.

But at this point I have so many potential malec plot bunnies frolicking through my brain (especially after several months with no time to write but my muses continuing to cheerfully throw plot bunnies my way) that I simply can’t decide anymore which ones to focus on, especially as RL is still keeping me busy, and I simply won’t have the time to write all of these.

And since you, my lovely readers, are so utterly awesome and kept drawing me back to this collection with all your wonderful comments and making my day rather regularly despite RL kind of imploding on me, you get to vote which one should be next :D

So, this is a list of plot bunnies (in the form of summaries and/or little scenes from what I’ve already written) that are currently collecting figurative dust on my computer. Just let me know which one you’d like to see most as the next snippet (though, if you can’t quite make up your mind on just one, please rank the ones you do pick by preference or this entire exercise will have been simply useless XD).

As always, the choices are pretty much between worldbuildy and/or fluffy (sometimes with a little angst strewn in), and – unsurprisingly – all of these are of course mainly about Malec :D

Here goes:

* * *

**(I) Resolution**: The one where Jace can’t make himself actually leave his parabatai behind when Alec refuses to leave with him after that whole mess with Meliorn’s arrest.

_>>“Come with me,” Jace pleads, chest tight with something he can’t name, something that’s far too close to gut-wrenching panic for Jace to even want to put a name to it. Because he already knows that Alec **won’t**, can see it in his expression. Jace still continues, helplessly, desperately, “Please, Alec, come with me. My parabatai. My **brother**.”_

_There is the slightest pause, as Jace sees the same pain he himself is feeling mirrored in Alec’s eyes, but also the utter, determined calm as his parabatai finally asserts decisively, “No.”_

_Just a single word. _

_And it feels like a seraph blade straight to his chest. Because Jace hears everything that is contained in that one word, everything that Alec isn’t saying. The fact that this is where his parabatai draws the line, that Alec has reached his limit of how far he is willing to compromise himself. Alec has made up his mind, already resolved in how he intends to fight this. And Jace knows that there is nothing in this world that will get Alec to move from his chosen stance._

_The realization that it’s been weeks since he’s seen this sort of certainty in Alec, this sort of surety, the sort of immovable conviction in Alec’s expression that he so admires about his parabatai, rattles Jace even further. _

_Even more so since, with no give from Alec’s end for once, not the slightest tremor in his resolve, no willingness to budge, he can feel the connection between them strain, Jace’s own intention of leaving the very thing that is tearing at their bond. _

_It’s in that moment that Jace realizes that, this time, if he wants a compromise, if he wants to prevent them being on opposite sides of this fight, he himself will have to be the one to concede. _

_Because Alec made up his mind and, for once, he will not let himself be moved. Not even for Jace.<<_

(Where Jace stays and thereby ends up giving Alec the tools he needs to fix everything for his sister and his parabatai. And, to his own surprise, even for himself.)

* * *

**(II) Gravity**: Where Clary manages to produce even more chaos than she did in canon.

_>> Alec more or less rolls his eyes at her, then turns, clearly ready to make his way back to the Institute, like she isn’t even worth an actual reply, like she is just supposed to follow him like a lost little duckling._

_And Clary is so done with this guy and his constant dismissal of her._

_“Just admit it, you’re in love with Jace,” Clary she throws at him. “You’ll feel better once you say it out loud,” she then adds, admittedly a little vindictively, even if she makes her voice all soft and understanding._

_But she thinks that part has been rather obvious, the way Alec’s eyes track Jace everywhere he goes, the way he is so obviously jealous of her for taking Jace’s attention._

_However, Alec’s reaction to her claim isn’t at all what she had been expecting._

_Well, first he blinks at her, in rather clear surprise. _

_A second passes. _

_And then he just starts laughing, right in her face, not loudly, more of an honestly amused chuckling, like she just said something so utterly ridiculous there is nothing he could possibly say in reply._

_It has Clary blinking at him in return. _

_Because, for one, she hasn’t seen Alec so much as smile before, much less outright laugh. And secondly, well, she doesn’t particularly enjoy being laughed at, face reddening in embarrassment at his continued hilarity at her expense, however… _

** _Damn_ ** _, she can’t help but think as she stares up at him. **He’s** **hot**.<<_

(Where canon pretty much stays the same, just that Alec gets a clue a little bit sooner and Clary somehow manages to make even more of a mess of everything. Also, fair warning: This one is somehow even less Clary friendly than I usually tend to depict her, despite being at least partially from her POV.)

* * *

**(III) Contrary**: The one where Lydia doesn’t accept Alec’s proposal. Which ends up changing everything.

_>> Alec wanders the city, supposedly on patrol, even if his mind isn’t entirely on his current task._

_Because, just hours ago, he proposed to Lydia, thinking he had found a solution to all of his and all of her problems. It really seemed like a rather neat solution. _

_Only for her to turn him down, calmly but determinedly, before explaining that while she gets where he’s coming from and even agrees that it would likely solve all their current problems, she long-since promised herself never to sully her deceased fiancé’s memory by marrying someone she doesn’t love with everything she is._

_And Alec even gets it, can even admire her for her determination to stay true to herself._

_If anything, her conviction that, despite being perfectly willing to put her job and her duties above everything else, she would not let herself, her heart and happiness and future, be compromised or tied down for the Clave’s sake… That’s honestly admirable, something to emulate. _

_And it’s those thoughts that now have Alec wandering the city, lost in thought._

_Because, if Lydia can make that choice, a choice directly against making her career a little easier, solely for the reason of wanting to stay true to herself where her heart and future happiness are concerned… Well, maybe Alec should really consider taking a page out of her book._

_He frowns slightly, steps slowing. Another second. And then, he abruptly turns, changing direction towards a different part of the city. Towards Brooklyn._

_Because… _

_Well, admittedly he doesn’t have an actual reason for wanting to stop by Magnus place, beside really rather wanting to. But for the first time since he met the warlock, Alec thinks that maybe he doesn’t actually need to have a reason at all.<<_

(Where Alec never gets engaged and thus also lacks a good enough reason to even try to keep himself away from Magnus.)

* * *

**(IV) Contrast**: The one where canon Malec gets thrown into a realm without powers.

_>>Alec stares at the billboard spanning the entire width of the building in front of him._

_Because… _

_That’s Magnus. Right there, on a banner in the middle of New York City. A banner so large the image itself is well beyond life-sized. _

_Magnus who Alec has been searching for ever since he was dropped into this messed-up dimension that is so very different from what he knows, his own bare arms a stark and constant reminder of just how different this place is compared to Alec’s home. _

_And now, it seems he finally found his husband. _

** _Please, please let it be him_ ** _, he pleads silently, despite knowing there are no powers-that-be in this world that might be listening to him. **Don’t let it be some other Magnus, don’t let it be his counterpart, the one who actually belongs in this reality.**<<_

(Where Alec is less than amused at finding himself thrown into a world without powers by a seelie spell gone awry. Though, if only he could find Magnus – who he knows was sent through that weird inter-dimensional portal with him – Alec could deal with not having runes. Hell, he can deal with anything life might ever decide to throw at him, if only he has Magnus right there beside him.)

* * *

**(V) Trade**: Asmodeus doesn’t ask for Magnus’ magic. He asks for his memories of Alexander instead.

But with his father not demanding that he also stay away from his boyfriend afterwards, Magnus thinks it’s a good deal, certain that he and Alexander can rebuild what they had even if Magnus has to learn to love him anew. It’s not like that was particularly hard the first time around.

However, he doesn’t count on the fact just how bad some of their interactions look from an outside perspective, the many betrayals and being made use of solely for his powers more than once along the way, how if simply told about how things developed between him and Alexander without the feelings that go along with it all, Magnus might honestly not be all that eager to figure out how to love Alexander once more.

(Where Alec is the one desperately trying to win back the man he loves after Magnus gives up his memories of the two of them together in order to be able to save Jace from Lilith. Because for the first time since they met, it’s Magnus who isn’t sure whether being with Alec is worth the sacrifices it would take from him. Warning: This is rather angsty, at least in the beginning. Though Malec is of course still going to happen. Obviously.)

* * *

**(VI) Flipped: **After millennia of war, the Shadowworld finally succeeded in closing off hell’s access to earth.

However, immediately afterwards, warlocks – fearing they might be next in line for the Clave’s zealous cleansing of their world due to their half-demon heritage – promptly hid themselves away, intending to remain out of sight until everything might have settled into some sort of equilibrium once more. Although, in a rather unexpected turnaround, by the time the warlocks finally made their return almost two centuries later, Shadowhunters – without their angel-given duty of demons to hunt – had disappeared from this world instead. Well, _supposedly_.

(Because I couldn’t resist writing something where both of them are part of the Shadowworld but also think the other very much isn’t. If only for the hilarity of both of them trying to hide their respective supernatural inclination from the other. Also, this will actually be set in the Inverted World and continue on right after Clary and Jace left through that portal. Just with that little added twist.)

_>>Alec smiles, listening to Magnus talk about all the various knickknacks scattered about his apartment, not quite babbling but rather adorably close to it, in his attempt to assure Alec that he is not in fact a nutjob for making palm reading and fortune telling his dayjob._

_Alec reaches out to casually rest a hand on Magnus opposite hip, uses that hand to pull his boyfriend closer into his side, interestedly glancing around himself, honestly curious whether he might spot anything **actually** magical on Magnus’ shelves. _

_Magnus’ fear of potentially scaring Alec away with his less-than-ordinary chosen occupation, though really rather endearing, is also wholly unnecessary. You know, since Alec is perfectly aware that Magnus in fact isn’t insane for believing in the supernatural._

_To the contrary. If anything, he himself should be the one assuring Magnus that Alec isn’t the nutjob between the two of them, for believing in far more supernatural things than just a bit of fortune telling or the effectiveness of talismans._

_You know, things like angels and demons, believes in warrior races born for the sole purpose of protecting humanity, in terrifying powers and breathtakingly otherworldly beauty, in immortal lives and pure magic._

_He hides a wince, instead tilts his head to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple, feels his grip on Magnus tighten a little. _

_Yeah, the whole ‘so-my-family-has-been-keeping-supernatural-records-for-ceturies-and-the-way-I-understand-it-we-used-to-be-actual-demon-hunters’ thing is definitely a conversation best kept for a little later in their relationship. Lest he manages to scare his boyfriend away in turn.<<_

(Where the Inverted World is just a little more flipped on its head than it already was in canon.)

* * *

**(VII) Mirrored**: What if that meeting at the Downworlder rave in 1x04 went a little differently? What if it sent Magnus hurrying back home in time to protect his warlocks from the Circle attack? What if Magnus had far less to regret, far more to lose, and Alec had to do just as much chasing as Magnus himself does in return?

_>> Thankfully, before Clary can complain any further about not being allowed to simply storm into a warlock’s home without invitation, they are turning a corner. And promptly walk right into a standoff between warlocks and the Circle. _

_It takes Alec barely a second to take everything in, to see Magnus Bane – who they met at the rave earlier – protectively standing in front of a group of warlocks, to take in the bodies of Circle members littering the floor, to spot the two Circle members hiding out behind furniture. _

_Barely a second. Before he has an arrow notched, lets it fly, then another. Both lodging themselves into the legs of the two Circle members, sending them to the floor with a yell of pain, out from their hiding places, and magic coming crushing down on top of them within an instant, rather effectively – and permanently – cutting off their screams._

** _Good riddance to bad rubbish_ ** _, Alec thinks, even as he looks up, eyes finding Magnus Bane’s across the room. The man is standing in front of the other warlocks, clearly fully intent on protecting them all. _

_There is something so immovable, so implacable about him, magic winding along his fingers, sparking in the air around him, pure power and magic, permeating the room like a heat haze in shades of blood red._

** _Well damn_ ** _, is all Alec can think.<<_

(Where I decided to stick with Magnus’ initial characterization from canon in those first couple of scenes he appeared in. As in, aloof, powerful, uncompromising. And without any patience whatsoever for Shadowhunter shenanigans. Well, from most Shadowhunters at least.)

* * *

So, these be my plunnies. Or at least the ones, that have recently been refusing to leave me alone. (And, boy, do I hope there are going to be obvious favorites and that I didn’t entirely screw myself by not reducing the list even further XD) I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts on these potential snippets!

Also, since I have no idea what the response to this will be, no clue how long this 'chapter' will stay up...

Either way, would absolutely love to know what you think :D


	34. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Alec doesn’t run away after the memory demon summoning, instead he stays at the loft for a little longer. Possibly even a little too long, depending on who you ask. 
> 
> Or, what if Alec had gotten a clue just a little earlier.
> 
> (AU of 1x04, where everything stays mostly the same, except that there is no warlock massacre by the Circle, giving Alec just that little bit more breathing room to come to a couple of realizations all on his own.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the results of the poll were actually pretty clear, with Gravity and Mirrored leaving all the other plunnies in the dust, Gravity coming out slightly on top. Also, I in no way expected the plunny poll to get that sort of response. I honestly thought I’d get maybe ten people going ‘oh, that one looks kinda fun’ and that would be it. I did not expect to get 150 people gushing at me about all the plunnies and it still has me absolutely giddy just thinking about it <3<3<3 You are the absolute loveliest readers to ever exist and you are simply awesome and I absolutely adore you all <3<3<3
> 
> So, here you go, my lovely readers. Hope it lives up to your expectations, despite being far more about Alec’s character development (at least at the beginning) than that little scene I included in the poll might have indicated <3 
> 
> Admittedly, this fic also didn’t quite go as I had intended (but when do they ever? XD) and turned out weirdly angsty in parts, though mostly because Alec does the whole discovering himself thing entirely on his own time and away from prying eyes. Well, with the sole exception of Magnus, of course, who is all too happy to help said self-discovery along :3 
> 
> Also, for the sake of reducing some of the (utterly unnecessary) drama, the attack by the Circle on the lair didn’t succeed in this, so just pretend the Circle simply didn’t manage to bring down the wards even in Magnus’ absence or something along those lines. If only because I see no reason to senselessly kill off quite a number of warlocks just so that Team Disaster could swan in to save the day.
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

Alec keeps himself utterly still, face impassive, makes sure that nothing shows on his face, that none of his thoughts, none of his uncertainty lingers in his expression, none of his desperate need to go over to where Jace is currently lying on the floor, trying to get his breath back.

Because this is Alec’s fault. It’s his fault that Jace almost got hurt, by screwing up so badly during the demon summoning just a few minutes ago, the guilt at his earlier overreaction a hot, uncomfortable mass coiling in his chest.

He still lets none of it show, hides his thoughts and his guilt and his uncertainty, perfectly in control of his expression and his body language.

Alec is good at that, at faking it. Either faking whatever the world wants to see of him or to not show anything at all. He’s been doing it for so long that he sometimes even forgets that it’s a front he is presenting and not whatever he might really be thinking. Then again, he’s used to it, no matter how disturbing it seems even to himself that he occasionally barely recognizes himself anymore, so buried underneath the masks he wears for other people’s benefit.

He keeps his face utterly impassive as he watches Jace being consoled by Clary, Izzy hovering beside them, guilt eating at him.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Magnus coming closer to where Alec is standing a little removed from the others in the doorway of the ritual room. Alec doesn’t acknowledge him, does his best to ignore the warlock likely on his way back towards his living room, continues to do so even when the man doesn’t in fact move past him, instead comes to a stop barely a step away from him, eyes focused on Alec.

A slight pause.

Then, softly, Magnus’ voice serious but definitely aiming for reassuring, “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Alec.”

Alec doesn’t even look at the warlock who is definitely standing closer to him than would generally be considered polite, instead keeps his eyes fixed on where Jace is trying to get his breath back, keeps his voice even, toneless, impassively unconcerned as he returns, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Admittedly, the way it comes out, it doesn’t sound particularly convincing even to his own ears.

Another pause, then a soft sigh.

“You will,” Magnus finally hums, something between casual and so incredibly weighty in his voice, as he finally moves past Alec towards his living room.

And something in Alec… takes notice.

Something about the way Magnus just said that, so very casually addressing something Alec has been trying to hide for so long, but without accusation or even any sort of judgment in his voice, has Alec turn the slightest bit, has him look away from Jace, eyes following Magnus instead, something almost resignedly wistful running through him.

Because… Wouldn’t that be nice? The idea that there is nothing wrong with Alec, that he is good enough as he is, that he doesn’t have to hide large parts of himself from everyone around him just to fit into other people’s mold of him, to always be the perfect soldier, the one who follows orders and never lets his own doubts show.

Something clenches in his chest at that thought. Yes, the idea of getting to be entirely himself, of being good enough _by_ being himself, of not hiding, not pretending, not pushing everything he feels behind the walls he has built around himself, to the point where his own family seems unable to see behind his masks anymore.

Masks that Magnus Bane rather clearly has no trouble seeing beyond.

It’s likely that thought, the thought of someone actually seeing him for once, seeing Alec and liking what they see, the thought of maybe even getting a few moments, just a couple of minutes, to be entirely himself, that has Alec stay behind at the apartment even when the others leave.

He doesn’t say anything to Izzy or Jace, doesn’t announce it, much less explain it, face impassive and unreadable as always, even as he sees Magnus’ lips quirking up the slightest bit from the corner of his eye when the warlock realizes that Alec is making no move to leave with the others, caught somewhere between feeling grateful and even somewhat surprised when Magnus doesn’t speak up to protest Alec staying behind.

He doesn’t acknowledge Magnus’ reaction at all, instead meets Izzy’s grin and eyebrow-wriggle with his usual neutral stare, expression shuttered, all of himself buried underneath his masks, beneath the weight of who he _should_ be. Until his sister’s amusement vanishes from her face, replaced with a slight, worried frown, possibly even realizing that there is more to this.

And usually, Alec would hide his disappointment – in her, in Jace, in everything that’s been happening, in all the choices they’ve been making.

But Alec is tired. Tired of pretending that any of this is okay, that what has been happening these past few days doesn’t feel like what little he thought he could openly claim to be _his_ being ripped out from underneath him. Like Izzy and Jace’s disregard doesn’t hurt on a level that Alec honestly thought he would never have to guard himself against, not quite having counted on ever having to protect himself from the two of them, never having even questioned their loyalty to him, same as he is immovably loyal to them in return. But suddenly finding himself doubting whether his devotion is nearly as self-evidently reciprocated by them as he had always thought.

Sure, nothing really bad has even happened yet, no irreparable damage done. But Alec can see which way the wind is blowing, somehow already knows how all of this is going to play out, can tell that Jace is getting ever-more sucked into the little girl’s schemes, her woe-is-me act, same for Izzy. There is something in him that already knows that, by the end of it, Alec’s will not be the side Izzy and Jace will be choosing.

He pushes the thought away, a problem he cannot fix, doesn’t even know whether he wants to. If he has to force them into choosing his side instead of that of a near-stranger, no matter how prettily she pouts, then, really, what is their loyalty even going to be worth anymore.

Alec has been raised as the Lightwood heir ever since before he even hit his teens, has watched his parents navigate political minefields and play power games for more than a decade, has been trained to one day take up the mantle of head of house, has been training for longer than even his siblings are aware of. So, he rather easily recognizes manipulation when he sees it, even if it comes in the form of some woe-is-me little girl with mundane ideals of equality and puppy-dog eyes gleaming with manipulation.

But Jace and Izzy are falling for it, delighted to hear so many of their own beliefs mirrored in Clary’s self-righteous words, never realizing that the girl merely picked up on several of their own objections to the status quo and is now simply spewing said criticisms about their world right back at Alec’s family, happily switching between supposedly righteous intent for bettering the world and forlornly claiming she is only trying to save her mother, depending on which one is going to get her the best results.

The manipulation is rather heavy-handed, absolutely inelegant, and possibly not even entirely intentional. But Alec is also clearly the only one who sees it.

So, yes, he is tired. Or rather, tired doesn’t even cover it. He is exhausted. To the point that he honestly just wants to sit down somewhere and close his eyes and maybe sleep for a month or two, in the hopes that everything will have settled once he wakes, that things will have fallen where they may, and that he’ll have made it past the shifting loyalties, able to simply work on fixing everything for everyone else once more instead of living through it.

He watches as Jace leaves – easily stepping through the portal Magnus made for them, eyes fixed on Clary, her hand settled softly on his arm, rather effectively focusing all of his attention on her – without a single backwards glance, without even noticing that Alec isn’t following him at all. Something in Alec’s chest tightens, a resigned sort of pain at the realization that his parabatai is currently so caught up in this girl, he doesn’t even notice Alec not being right beside him. Then again, maybe that’s actually Alec’s fault, considering the mess he just made during the ritual.

Thing is, no matter how his overreaction might have come across to the others, Alec knows he isn’t in love with Jace, that’s not the problem, never has been. Hell, Alec has never been truly attracted to anyone at all, at least not really, not beyond noticing someone particularly good-looking from time to time. Which doesn’t change the fact that his and Jace’s connection is still the closest bond he has in his life, nothing to distract himself from it, no attraction to other people to let him even pretend it’s not as singular, as unparalleled a bond as it is to Alec. He’s even fine with it not being the same for Jace, perfectly okay with the fact that they are simply different in that regard.

Still, he isn’t actually attracted _to_ Jace physically, never has been.

The mere idea almost makes him want to snort in amusement. Alec just doesn’t really do attraction. Even more, if it weren’t for the fact that with men he can at least admit when they are… aesthetically pleasing, while he has never found a single woman even the slightest bit attractive, Alec might even claim he simply doesn’t see other people that way. Sometimes, he even almost wishes that were the case. Simply not being attracted to anyone at all would certainly be simpler to figure out than this weird in-between thing where he does find men in general attractive but has never actually been attracted _to_ any particular one. He doesn’t even know what to call that. Can you be gay despite never having been attracted to another man?

Well, then again, it’s not like it matters.

Alec is the Lightwood heir, forever loyal to his family, _first_. He is a Shadowhunter, as perfect of one as he can make himself, _second_. And then… there is nothing really after that.

Personal happiness just isn’t on the table for him, never has been, at least not as a basis for any sort of decision he might ever make, no matter how much he might sometimes let himself dream about what his life could be like, the things he’d wish he could have. If only he’d let himself fight for himself with the same uncompromising ferocity as he fights for those he cares about.

Alec is perfectly aware of all of this.

Don’t get him wrong, he does his job out of conviction, is proud of how good of a Shadowhunter he is, that he has a perfect mission record where the hunting of demons is concerned.

But he also hates aspects of it, hates that being a ‘good’ Shadowhunter includes following every order he is given, even those that have little or nothing to do with eradicating demons and is far more about consolidating the Clave’s power by going after Downworlders instead, hates that it forces him to be someone he’s not, hates that sometimes when he looks in the mirror, he almost doesn’t recognize himself for the dichotomy of what he is feeling inside and how little of it is showing on the outside.

Alec doesn’t have the luxury of being himself, not anywhere and not with anyone.

But here, in the apartment of a warlock who Alec rather likely won’t get to see again after today, maybe for once he can just have a few moments to himself, to be who he is instead of who everyone imagines him to be, wants him to be, _expects_ him to be.

So, he stays. Stays at the apartment, witnesses Magnus magically transport the entire apartment to a different location, takes in the new location, instead of an artificially illuminated apartment, now a loft with large floor-to-ceiling windows, doors leading out to a balcony with a rather incredible view across the city. Alec pushes aside the question of why Magnus waited for the others to leave before he did so, thinks he might already know the answer but not willing to think about it any deeper.

“How about some drinks?” Magnus asks, eyes focused on Alec, gaze warm and intent and so obviously interested.

Alec nods, but doesn’t say anything beyond that, instead proceeds to wander out onto the balcony, to better appreciate the view and maybe give himself few seconds to think about what exactly he is doing here, pretends nonchalance even if he feels anything but.

Surprisingly, he still doesn’t regret his decision to stay behind even now. No, Alec thinks it’s okay if he grants himself a little longer of this, just a few moments to himself, to stay here with the warlock who has so clearly seen behind pretty much all of Alec’s masks with an ease that should scare him but that mostly feels almost comforting in a way. Comfort at finally getting the chance to breathe, to sit out here on the balcony overlooking the city, being himself, breathing freely, not having to keep his face utterly neutral lest he give anything of himself away. Considering that his masks don’t really seem to work on Magnus anyway, the knowledge that his usual pretense is entirely useless here has a sort of bone-deep relief running through him that even Alec himself honestly hadn’t quite anticipated.

And as he watches Magnus appear in the doorway leading to the living room, two cocktail glasses in hand and a genuine – _prettyprettypretty_ – smile on his face, that same sort of _interestwarmthintent_ in his eyes, there is suddenly a part of Alec wondering whether he should not just let this happen, whether he shouldn’t just let himself fall into this, to just let Magnus seduce him, this warlock who is clearly interested in him, hasn’t made a secret of his attraction to Alec at all. He honestly wonders whether this might not be his one and only chance to find out what it’s like to be with someone he admittedly does find attractive, can admit that Magnus is rather ridiculously attractive. A warlock who is clearly interested in him, who he likely won’t see again, who won’t care if Alec goes right back to pretending afterwards, might be his best, _his only_, chance.

Everyone gets to feel that, gets to feel being close to someone, the pleasure of it, the warmth. Alec just wants it once. Surely, if he has that, if he at least knows what it’s like, he’ll be able to push it aside, to be satisfied with having had that - sex and pleasure and heat, to know what it’s like to want someone and be wanted in return - and afterwards go back to how his life used to be.

Alec knows that he’ll marry a girl as is expected of him at some point in his life. Or, at most, if he can somehow manage to swing sparing himself that particular bit of torture, he’ll never marry at all, stay by himself and leave it up to Izzy and Max to continue their family line. But either way, the Clave’s doctrines will never allow Alec to be with another man openly, will never allow him to have what he actually wants.

And, a life conscribed to duty or not, somehow the thought that he might never get to find out what it’s like to be with someone he finds attractive at all, is a little too depressing. Even for Alec.

He still recognizes that if he doesn’t take this chance, right here, right now, he’ll quite likely never get around to letting himself have this at all. 

Magnus honestly doesn’t expect the kiss.

They’ve been talking, just chatting about everything and nothing, about today’s events and everything that could have gone wrong but thankfully didn’t, about wards and summoning theory, about Shadowhunter missions and the struggle of keeping self-important teenagers safe from their own delusions.

It’s been about an hour since the other nephilim disappeared through the portal Magnus made for them, and the longer they talk the more Alexander seems to relax, this gorgeous man’s soft, amused chuckles, the slightest hint at dimples from the smile playing around his lips, the softly crinkled eyes at some of Magnus’ anecdotes… It’s all really rather breathtaking if Magnus is entirely honest.

Earlier, when Alexander had decided to stay while the other nephilim filed through the portal, casually staying behind as though he had ever been invited to do anything of the sort, Magnus had already been more than a little surprised. Don’t get him wrong, the invitation was definitely there, even if unspoken. But Magnus never honestly expected Alexander to take him up on the offer at all.

Still, Magnus had been rather delighted at the surprising turn, the promise of something nice potentially coming of this rather desperately chaotic day, what with his not-so-wonderful decision to go to that meeting at the rave at all, leaving his warlocks with far less protection than he ever should have. Magnus can only be grateful that his wards ended up holding even in his absence and despite the Circle doing their very best to bring them down. Everything might have ended up working out fine, but the entire day has been far too full of balanced-on-knife’s-edge events, if you ask him.

They’ve been talking for about an hour and Magnus is relaxed, delighted at how easily their conversation is flowing, how it's effortlessly moving from serious topics to cheerful anecdotes to political views and back again. He is laughing at a particularly sardonic comment Alexander made a moment before, the nephilim’s surprisingly dry sort of humor an honest delight to discover.

And suddenly, there are lips on his.

Magnus blinks, takes a second longer to react than he usually would due to the sheer unexpectedness of the kiss.

It’s soft, just a meeting of lips, not overly eager or aggressive or even like Alexander is trying to prove anything, to Magnus or to himself. To the contrary. It’s almost tender, gentle, careful in a way Magnus thinks he hasn’t been kissed in a couple of decades if not longer. He’d be tempted to call it sweet, possibly even chaste. If it weren’t for the immediate heat the contact sends through him, the instant draw, the way he finds himself automatically leaning into it, the way he feels Alexander pull him in a little closer with the hand on his shoulder, their lips moving together softly.

They break apart for a breath, just a moment of sharing breath, but before Magnus can get more than the barest of glimpses at the other man’s expression, Alexander is already leaning in once more, clearly wanting another kiss.

Magnus lets himself lean into it once more, can’t quite help it. And he is tempted - so so very tempted - to try and take this further, to let this progress into something more, the mere thought of having this gorgeous man in his bed sending pure heat pulsing through him.

But in the end something stops him. There is just something about this, about the thought of taking Alexander to bed without any chance of a repeat, without the possibility of making this soft, or of ever reaching the sort of intimacy Magnus so prefers with his partners, the sort of which a quick tumble between the sheets never affords you.

He knows it’s rather unlikely that he’ll actually get that chance at the real thing with Alexander either, if only due to societal restraints. But Magnus would rather prefer not to ruin what little chance he might have by letting this go where the nephilim is clearly trying to take it. Not after spending the evening together and realizing just how easily he can imagine having Alexander in his life, how perfectly he would fit. How permanently Magnus would rather like to keep him there.

Magnus pulls away to put some distance between them, even if not all that much, and Alexander moves away at the slightest push, though remaining close.

They breathe in each other’s space and Magnus can’t help but be honestly surprised just how affected he is by a simple kiss, just a few moments, mere minutes, of real contact.

“Alexander,” Magnus says quietly.

“I just wanted to know what it’s like,” the Shadowhunter says, cutting off anything else Magnus might have wanted to say.

Though, that one little sentence is already more than enough.

Because… Well, he perfectly gets what Alexander intended to say with that, gets the implications. _All_ of them. And, sure, while Alexander might just mean he ‘wanted to know what kissing _Magnus_ is like’, as in compared to anyone else. But Magnus somehow knows that isn’t it at all. The revelation of what Alexander is saying has instant electricity running along Magnus’ skin, pure want coiling through him, heat pulling at something inside him, a soft breath rushing out of him.

He can’t quite help the way his hold tightens where his hands rest on the Shadowhunter’s waist, the way his fingers curl a little further into the fabric of Alexander’s shirt, a sort of heated possessiveness running through him that he should absolutely be above feeling but apparently just isn’t.

“Could I-,” Alec starts again before Magnus ever gets the chance to say anything at all, the nephilim’s eyes intent on him, something watchful and definitely a little careful in his eyes as he then asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

Magnus blinks at the soft but determined and so-very-straightforward question. But then feels a slight smile tilting his lips, delights in the way Alexander’s eyes promptly flit down, before returning to focus on his eyes once more when Magnus reaches up to softly rest one of his hands against the side of his face, lets it curve around Alexander’s jaw, thumb running gently along his cheekbone, and finally leaning in once more, lips meeting softly.

It would take a stronger man than Magnus to say no to this.

And why would he, anyway.

+++

When Alec returns to the Institute later that night – or more like, early morning – none of the others seem to be around anymore, the three of them likely asleep. He is rather glad that he doesn’t have to deal with Jace or Izzy or – most of all – Clary right now, his mind whirling, too many thoughts running through his head at once.

He just spent a couple of hours with Magnus, having drinks, talking, making out. They hadn’t let it progress beyond that, contrary to what Magnus might have intended right after they met, and contrary to where Alec himself had honestly been considering taking it at some point.

Then again, Alec is honestly glad they didn’t take it further.

Not because he thinks he would have disliked sleeping with Magnus or that he'd even have really regretted it. Not even because Magnus is a warlock or because he’s a man or because it would have been Alec’s first time. To the contrary, the longer they stayed out there on the balcony, talking, about everything and nothing at all, the more Alec felt his initial attraction to the warlock grow, felt it turn from vague physical appreciation into something far more concrete, into actual attraction. There is just something about Magnus that seems to ever-further draw him in and, with it being the first time Alec actually got to relax in so long he can barely even remember, he might admittedly have forgotten to fight said pull, that connection between them.

Alec tilts his head, eyes focused on the screens in front of him where he is doing his usual morning check of the mission roster, but for a moment not actually seeing anything as he recalls last night, thinks of the way Magnus hadn’t really moved away from him throughout the entire evening after that first kiss, had stayed leaning into Alec’s side whenever they were talking, so close and pretty and mesmerizing, expression open and eyes kind.

So, no, he doesn’t regret the kiss – though, _kisses_, as in plural, would be more accurate – as such. But in the days afterwards, Alec starts to realize that that entire evening might still have been the biggest mistake he has made in his life yet.

For no other reason than that, even after just kissing Magnus, Alec can barely manage to pull his mind away from the warlock anymore.

Kissing Magnus had been utterly perfect, everything Alec ever hoped for and so much more at the same time. And now, Alec seems incapable of thinking about anything else, head filled with memories of Magnus, his lips soft against Alec’s during that first kiss, neither toe-curlingly hot nor desperately passionate, but warm in a way that he has let himself dream of in some of his weaker moments. Thinks of the intensity of their second kiss, of Magnus’ warm weight against Alec’s chest during the kisses afterwards, the hot slide of his tongue, hand curving gently around his jaw, the feeling of his fingers tangling in his hair at the back of his head...

So, if kissing Magnus already has him this distracted, Alec doesn’t even want to imagine what it would be like if they’d taken it beyond just a couple of kisses, his distraction already enough to make him cringe a little inside, even as nothing shows on the outside, has once more hidden all of himself away behind masks and impenetrable façades.

Which doesn’t change the fact that his lips tingle slightly at the memory of that night.

Yes, Alec thinks he might really have screwed himself there.

Because, sure, just as he intended, now he knows _exactly_ what it’s like to kiss someone he is attracted to, knows what it’s like to kiss _Magnus_. The part he didn’t expect, however, is that for the first time he isn’t certain anymore whether giving up any chance at ever having that in his life is a sacrifice he is willing to make any longer.

Not now that he knows what he'd be missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve been wondering for a while now how things might have turned out in canon if they had made the various romantic entanglements of the meant-to-be couples less of the Hollywood teen movie sort of puppy romance (for all that I adore fluff in general, will forever be an absolute sucker for anything hinting at even vaguely soulmate-y connections, and I will never write Malec as anything except exactly that). However, with Magnus being a couple of centuries old and Alec having grown up a soldier in a warrior culture, the whole Alec-doesn’t-know-himself thing, never mind that entire will-I-won’t-I indecisiveness the writers had them go through for three seasons, seemed a little ridiculous to me.
> 
> Also, there will be at least one more part to this (which also includes the plunny poll scene), however, fair warning: This entire thing is going to be far harsher in its depiction of Shadowhunter culture and society because, honestly, what little we got to see of it in canon was more than a little fucked up in my eyes, and this is me for once not pretending as though those bits about a racist, pure-breeding, homophobic, openly genocidal culture was in any way okay. So, there. 
> 
> And I’m sorry if this fic didn’t quite turn out the way you had imagined. Hope you still liked it, though! And thank you so incredibly much for all your votes in the poll!
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


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